A Heavy Load To Bear
by Bryon Nightshade
Summary: Total X5 re-write. The four Wars that have come before were merely a prologue. Under the shadow of cataclysm, the old order is coming apart at the seams. Neighbor will fight neighbor, two robots close as brothers will battle to the death, and nothing will ever be the same. Don't think you know what will happen. Complete.
1. Prelude

_Disclaimer: This story is based off of the Mega Man properties, copyright Capcom. Used without permission but not for profit._

_Author's note: This story is a complete re-write of Megaman X5. I emphasize some parts of the universe that get little attention. Don't think you know all that will happen._

_I have written several other Megaman X stories. I have written this story to stand on its own, but reading the others may enhance your enjoyment of this one. The most important for this purpose are "Zero Sum" and "Consequences"._

_When there is a contradiction between game and extra-game material (example: Dr. Cain being an invalid in "Day of Sigma" OAV but merely old in X2), I have followed the games. I use no material post-X5._

* * *

/Accessing data file: Zero/

/Loading…/

/Zero: unique robot prototype. Origin unknown. Designer unknown. Zero incorporates a combination of archaic and advanced parts. Little-to-no design overlap exists with any other robot either current or in archives. Closest match: Megaman X, at less than 20% design commonality. Design suggests Zero was intended as a high-end combat robot. Rated combat capabilities are highest on record/

/Attached: schematic of Zero design/

/Discovered after initial Maverick incidents had prompted creation of Maverick Hunters. Maverick Hunter squad Sigma fought and subdued Zero. After defeat, Zero was subjected to scan and schematic evaluation, but refused functional analysis. Offer to join Maverick Hunters was accepted based on demonstrated capabilities and apparent stability/

/Attached: performance record as Maverick Hunter/

/File ends/

Signas looked to a second screen. "Is this it?" he said. His tone suggested 'it had better not be'.

"Heh. Looking for more? Now what would make the commander of the Maverick Hunters so nosy about his own men?"

Signas grimaced. "I asked you to help me, Doctor Cain. If you don't want to, then…"

"Then what, hm? You'll hang up on me? Signas, my boy, I want to help you. But if I don't know what your concern is I can't give you what you need."

Signas tried to look stern. He didn't know if he succeeded. Facial expressions were about the limit of his leverage over the old doctor. Dr. Cain was at the point in his life where he was immune to threats. He'd lived such a full life that anything more was just a bonus. It gave him a relaxed attitude Signas found maddening. Just as maddening was the fact that Signas had little choice but to live with it. Having Dr. Cain attached to the Maverick Hunters was doubly useful. In the first place, he was the foremost living expert on robotics, especially reploid robotics. Proximity allowed him to readily help them, including with the maintenance of the Hunters' reploid members. In the second place—and this aspect got very little publicity—it allowed the Hunters to keep Dr. Cain under wraps. It was a form of house arrest for a man no one, except possibly that gullible X, trusted.

Few humans held any sympathy for Dr. Cain. The man had made the creation of reploids, and therefore Mavericks, possible. It was considered a mixed blessing at best. The reploids themselves held no particular gratitude for his contributions to their creation, while his work with the Maverick Hunters made the Mavericks actively hate him. Truthfully, his golden cage was as much to protect him as to imprison him.

None of that really touched on why Signas was never comfortable with Dr. Cain. The man was so… _human._ What he thought was important rarely coincided with what Signas thought was important. His quirks were to Signas what the sound of nails on a chalkboard is to humans. The term "boy", for example. Sure, Signas was young in absolute terms, but his programmed maturity level was relatively high. Maybe Dr. Cain persisted because, as progenitor of the reploids, he saw all reploids as his children. Or maybe he did it because he knew it irritated Signas. It was hard to tell.

"Zero has always concerned me," Signas said, refocusing on his task. "Doubly so after this past War. He seemed more aloof after his return, and more distant. I don't think the after-action reports captured everything that happened up there in space. There's more that wasn't said."

"Hm."

"I'm worried he may become a danger," Signas said with a hint of frustration. "I thought maybe you could help tell me how or why."

"Hm. Tell me: are you sure you don't want a psychologist to weigh in on this, rather than a roboticist?"

Signas snorted. "You're being deliberately unhelpful!"

"No, I'm merely telling you the limits of the help I can offer. If you want an assessment of Zero's fighting ability, well, that's one thing. But if you want me to explain what would make a robot change its loyalties… you have an unrealistic expectation. Frankly, we know very little about Zero."

Signas looked back over to the first screen. The old scientist wasn't on that screen. "It says here that Zero refused a functional analysis. That was you, wasn't it? You analyzed him when he was brought in?"

"It was me."

"And? I don't understand what the distinction is here."

"Looking at a robot's schematics is easy. We can map every joint, piston and circuit with no problems at all. That tells us less than you might think. You don't become a doctor just because you know anatomy, do you? No, you have to know processes: how things work, and why, and when. That's what a functional analysis is supposed to do. Sadly, Zero refused. Too bad. It would have been fascinating."

"How did he refuse?" Signas replied. "He was in your custody."

"Not my custody," Dr. Cain said delicately. "He was in Maverick Hunter custody. I am simply a scientist. Legalities aside, I took his refusal seriously. He saw it as an invasion of privacy, and I honored and agreed with this conviction."

"So now we have a potentially unstable reploid…"

"No! Not a reploid. He is no scion of mine. He is… different. The product of a different lineage."

Signas had been about to vent his anger at Dr. Cain, but the last comment caught his attention. "A different lineage?" he asked. "What lineage?"

"No one knows," Dr. Cain answered. "You saw the notes in the file. Some of his components are positively ancient-seeming- over a century old, in some cases, but of superb quality and workmanship. Others are modern-seeming, but it's deceptive. Although the technology is similar in function to ours, it's not the same. It's… rougher. Less refined. As if the creator had to come up with it as he went along."

At last, at long last, Dr. Cain was giving up useful information. Signas processed it quickly. "So, perhaps the creator was of limited resources? He didn't have access to the newest bits, so he had to compromise?"

"I think it's the reverse. I think the creator was a genius with many resources, who used the best technology of his time, and invented completely new technology when he needed to."

Anxiety crept over Signas. "That's a seriously smart human."

"I agree."

"But who… could that be?"

"Two names leap to my mind immediately. The first is Dr. Light—but no, he's not one of Dr. Light's creations. I have studied every bit of Megaman X, and even if I hadn't, his legacy lives on everywhere. I know his handiwork. No, Dr. Light had no hand in this."

"Then…"

"Doctor Wily."

"No!"

"I have no evidence," Dr. Cain said smoothly. "None. But it feels right. He had the genius. The timeframe is consistent with the older pieces in Zero's design. His style was different from Dr. Light's. He had need of soldier robots."

"But the report you sent me said he was dissimilar from anything on file. If he was one of Dr. Wily's, we'd be able to verify that against the old Robot Masters."

"No, everything of Dr. Wily's was suppressed after his eventual defeat."

"What? Why?" Signas said without thinking. His face changed immediately. "Of course. Copy-cats. What use would combat mechs of that potential be, except to someone else who wanted to seize power? Especially after the end of Megaman…"

"Exactly. So I have no basis for comparison. But it makes sense."

Signas shifted in his seat. Dr. Cain reached out. "Don't be hasty, Signas! Think of all the good Zero has done for us! Think of all the help he's been! Don't rush this."

"I don't mean to," Signas said evenly. "And I know he's been an exemplary Hunter. Still…"

"Still."

"Yes."

"Signas, keep this in mind about Zero. We know very little about his workings, yes, and next to nothing about his programming. But as near as I can tell, he has tremendous freedom. He's reploid-like in that regard. He can choose his course—and his choice has been to protect our world. Don't dismiss that."

"And I'll answer that," Signas said grimly, "with something you once told X. Nothing can guarantee that he won't ever change his mind."

"But isn't that true for you, too? I can say that about any human or reploid. That's why we judge only what people have done, not what they might do. To borrow a line, it's our actions, not our potentials, that tell others who we truly are. Anyway, if you're concerned about Zero, isn't he in the best place possible? Here in Maverick Hunter headquarters, surrounded by companions who know him well?"

Signas had to give Dr. Cain that point. It was, after all, the same situation the doctor himself was in. "You said you don't understand much about how Zero works. But didn't you repair him after the First Maverick War?"

"Ah, no. Not really. Zero's self-repair system is almost divine in its resilience. Only X's is in the same league, which is a big reason those two are so capable in battle. During the First War, Zero's power distribution system was damaged too badly for the self-repair system to be able to operate. His memory systems and processors were completely _un_damaged—he was lucid right up until he shut down. To repair him, it was as simple as gathering his components and giving his self-repair a new power source. He did the rest on his own. He remains a mystery."

"I don't like mysteries."

"Oh? You don't find them the slightest bit stimulating?"

"I do. But an electric stun gun is also a form of stimulation. That doesn't make it pleasant."

"At least that new reploid seems to have a stabilizing influence on Zero. She's good for him. Her name was… Iris, wasn't it? I think he fancies her. It can only be healthy for him to have someone like that around."

Signas had to cut off his first response. This had to be put delicately, not that he wanted to say it at all. "Dr. Cain… I suppose I was being vague earlier. I _know_ not everything that happened in space made it to the after-action reports, because I redacted some of it."

"I'm getting old, Signas, please speak plainly."

_Rich coming from you_, thought Signas. "At the last, Iris joined the rebels. So Zero… killed her."

The color drained from Dr. Cain's face. "That's… oh, my. That's bad."

"I agree."

"That would shake up anyone, human or robot alike. You are giving him help and support, right?"

"I'm not negligent, X has been with him the whole time," Signas grumbled. "I also took the precaution of trying to find out more about him. Hence this conversation. It's been less useful than I'd hoped for."

Dr. Cain visibly hesitated. "There is something, maybe… Something I have observed outside my capacity as a scientist," he offered.

Signas gestured for Dr. Cain to go on.

"Zero seems to relish a fight, but he isn't content fighting for its own sake. When he was found, he fought because he didn't know what else to do. It was as if the circumstances of his awakening had left him with no programming, no purpose. He joined the Maverick Hunters because that gave him a reason to fight. So far, it makes sense to him. It makes him feel justified. Those who go Maverick get punished."

"I've noticed this," Signas said, although the additional background was data he hadn't had.

"Have you? Then surely you've thought about this, as well. We have nothing to fear from Zero so long as he's convinced that Mavericks are in the wrong. But if his sense of justice changes, he will throw himself behind his new cause, with all his fury and conviction."

Signas nodded slowly. "That's good to keep in mind."

"I'm sure a little leadership could help him in that regard."

Even a robot is only so patient. Signas killed the connection.

* * *

Phosphors danced on another screen. Alert black eyes watched them intently. They were going too fast for a human to comprehend, but the watcher was not human. Robots were ubiquitous these days, though it always seemed that this one was unusual, as if he lay somewhere between human and robot. He even sported brown hair; only the closest of inspections revealed it as artificial. His eternally youthful face was creased with a slight frown. He wasn't bothering to conceal his plain blue carapace. His forearms were oversized. Clearly, there was more to them than was visible. His rounded helmet sat on the desk to his side.

Megaman X, as always, had a lot on his mind.

The other robots in the Maverick Hunters whispered about it at times. No other robot spent as much time thinking as X did. It couldn't possibly be healthy. What was he thinking about, anyway? Some had asked him on occasion. Even after hearing the answer, they didn't really get it. X was always focused on "how"s and "why"s. It went far beyond what was necessary.

Perhaps it was more than a simple philosophical difference. X's construction was different, after all. All reploids might have been based on X, to some extent, but X was in a class of his own. He was the prototype of the truly thinking, independent robot. He seemed to take that ability seriously, whereas the reploids took it for granted. It set him apart. Only one other was truly close to him. Only one other seemed to understand.

It wasn't intentional. He wasn't standoff-ish, he thought. He wasn't unfriendly. He was polite with others, and they were polite with him. But the other Maverick Hunters were not his friends.

Maybe they were afraid. X was gentle by nature. He also carried weapons and defenses of unprecedented potency. Even one hundred years after his construction he was still a top-tier fighter. Yet he insisted that his creator had not meant for him to be a warrior. The assertion puzzled robot and human alike. It seemed so obvious to them that he was. No, he replied. He just needed to be able to win if he ever did choose to fight.

So his loneliness might have been due to his personality, or maybe his construction, or maybe his power. No one knew. Regardless, he stood his silent vigil alone, thinking thoughts that seemed important only to him.

"Look who's working during his off-duty time."

X started at the interruption. He'd been so absorbed in the problem at hand he'd relegated situational awareness to a third order priority. Bringing his senses back to the fore took a moment. He turned. "Zero," he said with only mild surprise.

Zero was bigger than X. Although he, too, had a humanoid build and human-like face, they were not as closely imitative as with X. Zero's red-and-white body was more obviously armed and armored. The hilt of a weapon rested atop each of his shoulders at a steep angle. His face was engineered to make him appear older and sterner. His neutral expression was one of arrogant aloofness. For all of that, X considered him a friend. They were outsiders, he and Zero, and that gave them a natural bond. Fighting side-by-side in three wars and countless skirmishes had only strengthened that bond.

The taller robot gave X a quizzical look. "There's a question that's been bugging me."

"Yes?"

"Do you have a sense of humor?"

X blinked in surprise. "I suppose so. I guess I haven't exercised it much. Why?"

"Just curious. You're always so serious, so business-like. Even now you're at it again. So what is it this time?" He strode past X and leaned in to peer at his screen. "After-action reports on Maverick hunts?" he said skeptically. "Analysis of Maverick targeting patterns? And profiling of Maverick, Doppler, and Repliforce propaganda efforts?" Zero shook his head. "What do you hope to get out of this?"

X shifted uncomfortably. He hated these sorts of questions—hated how he always needed to prove himself to others. "Usually you give me the benefit of the doubt, Zero."

Zero snorted. "Usually I can at least guess where you're headed."

"It's the same project as always," X said. "What makes some reploids go Maverick and others not? What could drive an intelligent robot so crazy that it wants to kill humans? And how can enough robots feel that way that we get mass rebellion out of it?"

A short laugh came from Zero. "You might as well ask why humans kill each other. It seems to be in their nature."

X shook his head doggedly. "I thought I was on to something this time. Didn't you ever think it was odd that when some reploids went Maverick, they immediately started destroying whatever was in reach, while others had Maverick intentions for a long time before revealing themselves?"

Zero nodded. "I noticed."

"Maybe, I thought, it was related to what Doctor Doppler told us. Remember when he told us about Sigma, the most Maverick of Mavericks? Sigma had the ability to possess other machines, like a virus. What if there was a virus that made reploids go Maverick? That would explain the differences in behavior."

"I suppose so." Zero waved his hand. "And?"

X grit his robotic teeth together. "I couldn't piece together a pattern. If there is a virus, why wouldn't Sigma be spreading it as widely as possible? As far as I can tell Doctor Doppler was the only robot afflicted during the Third War, and there was no evidence of virus activity in the Fourth War at all. The Fourth War was…" X trailed off as he saw Zero stiffen. "…not virus-related," he finished lamely.

Zero changed the subject quickly. "I remember. When they tried to control me, it was with hardware, not software. If there was a Maverick virus, they could have used that on me instead."

"So it's back to the drawing board," X said. "As far as I can tell, Doctor Doppler is the only reploid that went Maverick against his will. Every other one chose to rebel and harm humans as a matter of preference."

"So what? I don't care why a reploid goes Maverick. If he steps out of line, I'll cut him down."

X grimaced. "I'd rather reduce the number of reploids I have to cut down, if I could."

For not the first time, X watched a dark aspect come over Zero's face. It had been showing up more and more frequently with each Maverick War. Zero was smiling, but there was nothing humorous about it. "Well, it keeps us busy."

"Weren't you just chewing me out for working while off-duty?" X said with a weak smile.

The shadow vanished from Zero's face. He appraised X for a moment. "Work on the whole joke thing," he said. "You're not good at it yet."

"I'll try."

"You'll probably have the opportunity. Since the Fourth War, there's been a real drop-off in Maverick activity. Either they're finally getting the message, or they're lying low for now."

"Or they're looking for a new leader. We've beaten Sigma four times now, and he's always had a pretty extreme agenda. Maybe there are plenty of reploids out there who would go Maverick, just not for him."

The prospect seemed to surprise Zero. "I knew we kept you around for something. Either way, we've got some time to ourselves."

Zero said it as if it should be a good thing, but there was no enjoyment on his face. As he had before, X considered that an idle Zero was probably not a healthy Zero. "Hey, Zero?"

The taller robot had turned to leave, but X's words stalled him. "Yeah, X?"

X had thought he knew what to say, but words failed him as he opened his mouth. He selected a generic fall-back. "I worry about you, you know?"

Zero laughed. "Why?"

_Because fighting and killing and, in your case, dying for a while would shake anybody up. Because in the last war you killed someone you cared deeply for and there's no possible way you've gotten over it. Because you're the person in this world I trust the most and care about most and every day you seem less stable._

But he couldn't say that—couldn't say any of it. What would Zero think? Would he dismiss it as more of X over-thinking things? Would he be disappointed that X thought so little of him? And if Zero was having problems, wouldn't so bald an approach drive the friends to immediate rupture? X valued Zero's company too highly to do anything that might endanger their relationship. So he allowed doubt to paralyze him. He permitted his second guesses to seize his tongue.

All he said was, "I'm here for you. You know, if you need help with anything."

Zero laughed. "I know. I know. That's what I like about you." He raised his hand. "See you soon, okay?"

X tried to look at the data again, but his robotic heart wasn't in it. The data made no sense to him. They were just a tangled jumble, like inedible spaghetti. Correlations and inferences eluded him. Maybe Zero was right, this time. Maybe he needed to stop for a while, other than just to recharge.

Reluctantly, X stepped back from the console. Surely he could at least hold a decent conversation with other Maverick Hunters. And he knew where to find them.

* * *

The Three Laws of Robotics. First, a robot shall not harm a human being or, by inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. Second, a robot shall obey the orders of a human being, unless this would violate the First Law. Third, a robot shall preserve its own existence, except where this would violate the First or Second Laws.

With a few exceptions, every robot since the beginning of the Robot Age had been built to obey the Three Laws. They were an embedded part of the robot brain. Every robot had circuitry built-in to ensure compliance, a feature known as "logic gates" or "Three Laws gates". No robot could act on its decisions unless those decisions could pass muster with its Three Laws gates.

For generations this mechanism served the world well, and allowed humans and robots to live side-by-side with some measure of decency. Reploids changed everything. Reploids were the next generation of robots. Their design incorporated features copied from Megaman X—most importantly, true free will. It was only discovered later that free will was strong enough to override the logic gates. Suddenly, reploids could become violent. They could turn on humans. And upon further consideration, some of them decided they didn't like doing whatever the humans told them to do.

So the first Mavericks came to be—reploids that had overridden their Three Laws gates.

Humanity, for its part, was not content to let its carefully-built order disintegrate. The Three Laws became actual laws, rather than just programming and circuitry. The Maverick Hunters were established, staffed mostly by loyal reploids. And small groups of humans took matters into their own hands and bought anti-reploid weaponry.

Four wars ensued. Each was initiated by Mavericks, each cost many human and reploid lives, and each was ended through Maverick Hunter heroism, mostly on the parts of Megaman X and Zero. For all their violence, the wars resolved nothing. Reploids still went Maverick and initiated violence. Humans—and the Hunters who protected them in the name of peace—took more extreme actions to suppress the Mavericks. This heavy-handedness sent more reploids into the Maverick camp. Humans and reploids alike lost faith in the government's ability to manage the situation. Soon even the dimmest robots could sense the situation couldn't last.

Only one thing held the situation together: the Maverick Hunters. The humans relied on them. The reploids respected them. The Mavericks feared them. So long as they stood united, humans and reploids could live, however uncomfortably, on the same planet.

There was no more natural target.

* * *

_Next time: Overture_


	2. Overture-- Dramatis Personae

_Note: When I update this story, it will always be on a Monday._

* * *

X walked into the lounge at Maverick Hunter HQ. Talking stopped, leaving him feeling intensely self-conscious. That, itself, was a reason he usually avoided going there. "Don't mind me," he said.

"Don't worry about it," said Zero. "They're just not used to seeing you around. Oh, that reminds me. Douglas? Pay up."

The Hunters' chief mechanic, a green-armored reploid, sighed and extended a small card in Zero's direction. Zero pressed a matching card against it. There was a small metallic sound, indicating that money had changed hands. "What's that about?" X asked.

"Let's just say I know you better than Douglas," Zero said with a grin. Douglas sighed again.

Signas coughed—purely for effect, as the reploid leader of the Hunters had no need to breathe. "What I was saying was, they're using a mixed crew to build Eurasia. Reploids and humans together. It makes me kind of nervous, especially since we have no Hunters up there."

"But it's supposed to have a mixed population when it's finished, right?" asked Lifesaver. Lifesaver was, like Douglas, a mechanic, but since he specialized in reploids the Hunters classified him as a medic. He'd had another designation at his activation. It was long-since irrelevant. "As a permanent space colony, it's supposed to be a microcosm of Earth. So why be worried about a mixed population now? If we're going to have problems, it's just as likely we'll have them now as later."

"Not exactly. If one out of every—I don't know, thousand reploids, X probably knows better than me—if one out of every thousand reploids goes Maverick, we're probably not going to have a Maverick until they max out its population. What I'm worried about is that the damage potential is larger. Eurasia seems so much more… fragile now, during construction. So much more can go wrong. The danger a potential Maverick could pose seems higher."

"But that applies to humans and reploids alike," Lifesaver pointed out. "Our fluids will freeze, too, if we're not specially insulated. Space is no more forgiving to us than to humans."

"And that's a good thing," X interjected. "It means that no one can harm one group without harming both. Both groups have to depend upon each other to survive. If it works, it's a model for us here on Earth—peaceful codependence. That's why we need it to work so badly."

Lifesaver laughed. "I think he may be on to something there, Signas! What do you say to that?"

The commander shrugged. "All the same, I would like to have a Hunter team up there. I applied to send one, but I haven't gotten far. Tonnage limits, they said."

"I'm shocked the place is getting built at all," Douglas said. "I know it was started a while ago, but with all the damage from the Maverick Wars, it seems like there would be other infrastructure projects that would be better investments."

"They had to keep going," Signas said. "As long as it's incomplete, it's a money pit. It takes money to keep it in space even if they don't work on it. It has to be finished before they can imagine getting a return out of it. So they might as well keep going. Delaying makes it more expensive, not less."

"I bet they'll need Hunters up there eventually," said Lifesaver. "You fancy that job, Signas?"

"I have a hard enough time keeping tabs on these guys," Signas said. His voice was weary but his face wore a smile as he pointed at X and Zero.

X considered this. "Sorry to be such a—I mean, it's our job to keep you on your toes!"

There was nothing funny about the joke. There was everything funny about Signas' face as he tried to reconcile the joke with its origin. Zero laughed, a condition that quickly spread.

"Glad to see we're all so chipper," said Alia as she entered the lounge. Her tone made clear that chipper, for her, was not in the cards. Chippy was as much as could be hoped for.

"I don't typically see you down here," Douglas said to Alia. "I thought you could stay up indefinitely, like those terminal-bots."

"That's because the terminal-bots do no deep thinking or analysis," Alia said coolly, "whereas I do quite a lot. My job may not have the intensity of a field Hunter's, but I need time to sort my data-stacks and recharge, just like the rest of you. I'll be heading for my tube shortly."

"So," said Zero, "what do you dream of when you do?"

Silence greeted him. All eyes followed the voice to its source. "That's what it's called, isn't it?" Zero said. His voice had a note of uncertainty in it. "That's when your brain is trying to reorganize things on a subconscious level, and the disconnected bits intrude on your consciousness. That's what humans call it, anyway."

"I don't dream," Alia said decisively. "And if you do, you shouldn't be. It sounds like you need a level two diagnostic—maybe a level three—and a partial software rebuild." Her eyes lost focus for less than a second. "Your last major system maintenance was during your reconstruction after the First War, and you've seen a lot of action since then. Why don't you go down to Dr. Cain and…"

To Alia, Zero was too often just a mote on her screen. For all the data she had on Zero, she didn't know him. X did. He could see in Zero's posture when his partner was on the defensive. He could tell when her suggestions ceased being helpful. So he intervened. "I dream, too," he said. The focus shifted to him instantly. "Or… at least, I have a dream. It's a dream about humans and reploids living in peace as equals."

The room became a chorus of groans. "Dream? More like obsession," Douglas said, capturing the sentiment of all.

"So?" said X. "It's the right thing to do. We don't hunt Mavericks just because. We hunt them so that humans and reploids can live together. That's why we're all here, right? To try and make that world reality?"

Looking at X's face was hard for his compatriots. That face was so earnest, and his voice so sincere, that it made the Hunters ache. At the same time, the world X longed for was so far from the world that existed that surely the robot must be torn apart between ideal and reality.

No one could point this out. It would be like clubbing a puppy.

Signas opened his mouth to speak, but was mercifully spared by the sounding of a klaxon. "Play time's over," he announced. "Let's go."

The Hunters didn't protest. The past few true alarms had been so catastrophic that even the false alarms got their full attention. They filed out the door. X allowed the others to go in front of him until he and Zero were last in line. Soon they were isolated in the narrow corridor leading from the lounge to the command center.

"So, what do you dream about?" X asked Zero.

Zero seemed about to say something, then saw it was X asking the question and reconsidered. He said in low tones, "It's the same dream, time and again. I'm in a tube. I can't move at the start, so I guess I'm just coming online. A man—he must be my creator—is standing over me, talking about how I'm his masterpiece. After that are scenes of destruction, but I can't tell if I'm the cause or just a witness. All I know is I feel a sense of great purpose, even if it's not my own purpose." He tried to act nonchalant, though he couldn't have been more transparent to X if he'd been made of cellophane. "It's probably nothing. Even humans usually look at dreams as just meaningless noise."

"It's consistent, thought?" asked X, worry evident on his face. Why had Zero never mentioned any of this before?

"Extremely," Zero said as they walked into the command center. "Almost as consistent as Sigma," he said in a loud voice, ending the conversation at a stroke. Sure enough, the face of their mortal enemy glared at Zero and X from the center screen.

The command center was a layered semi-circle. The inner layer was a round, flat upper deck, with a single console which Alia manned with practiced motions. Below and further outside was a recessed area. A dozen terminal-bots sat there, immobile. They looked like generic versions of Alia, lacking personality, higher brain functions, and legs. They received and processed incoming information and fed it to the screens. The outer wall of the center was covered in screens from floor to ceiling. They displayed a dizzying amount and variety of data: a roster of Hunters, with their locations and rankings; historigrams of Maverick activity by location; maps of the radius of action of known or suspected Mavericks; and, in some cases, direct video feeds. From the largest screen in the center of the room, the face of Sigma let them all know he thought them unworthy.

It was a familiar face to all. Sigma had been commander of the Maverick Hunters after his activation. He had abandoned that job to take charge of the most extreme Mavericks. Under his guidance, scattered and spontaneous acts of destruction had turned into a deadly and well-armed rebellion, with deliberate tactics, coordinated attacks, and a genocidal agenda. Physical destruction seemed only to slow him down. X and Zero had accomplished it repeatedly, but the wily Maverick had somehow discovered a way to transfer his consciousness from machine to machine. So long as the host had sufficient capacity, Sigma could enter the new body without losing any of his personality, memories, or lethal intentions.

It was probably a mark of personal vanity that in every incarnation he kept the same face. It was oblong and hairless, with shallow silvery discs for ears. The chin jutted prominently beyond the rest of the face and ended so squarely it might have been cut by laser. Purple diamonds, like warpaint, were centered on his beady monochrome eyes. A red jewel rested in the center of his forehead, while his upper lip curled in a semi-permanent sneer.

Many reploids had humanoid faces. Sigma's seemed to revel in its inhumanity. X had to suppress his reaction to seeing that hated face again. Zero made no such effort and made a noise suggestive of spitting.

"I hope you didn't actually spit," said Alia without looking. "If you did, clean up after yourself. I only allow the janitor-bots in here once a week." Zero contrived to look embarrassed.

"Status report," barked Signas, refocusing his team.

Alia's voice was crisp and efficient. It could make things seem safely understood regardless of its content. "Three minutes ago, communications tower L-319 came under attack. The tower had no defenses, only surveillance and anti-criminal precautions. The cameras captured images of armed reploids, and a reploid appearing to be Sigma."

As she spoke, images populated on the screens in front of her—short clips of the Maverick incursion. Here, they were breaking through locked doors. There, they were eliminating human and reploid alike. Elsewhere, they were saluting Sigma as he walked unfazed through the destruction all around him.

"What of the tower?" asked Signas.

"Normal traffic is suspended, but 90% of it has been successfully rerouted via towers in the surrounding areas. The tower is still transmitting, but… I don't understand what." A new image appeared that it looked like nothing more than alphanumeric gibberish. "Possibly a fragment of code, or an encrypted message—too hard to say. It'll certainly be picked up by any receiver in range."

"Which means most reploids in range. Alia, could we send a message to the affected reploids in that region using only the other towers?"

"Negative, for two reasons. First, the overlap is not complete. Some areas would be missed. Second, every user of the system in that area would get the message. It couldn't be confined to reploids alone."

"Meaning everyone in the area would know something is happening…" Signas said.

"Why does that matter?" asked Douglas.

"The government's been taking advantage of the relatively quiet Maverick activity recently. It's been pushing a "return to normalcy" campaign. We have to support that campaign when we can."

Zero's expression was disapproving. "Just to help the government score political points? I don't like that."

"It's not that simple or ignoble. 'Normalcy' entails that no one is killing each other. One of the big recruiting tools, used by the Mavericks and the human supremacists alike, is the threat of the other side's action. If all is quiet, why would you need to join a group like that? War breeds war and peace breeds peace. So says theory, at least. If we can resolve this quietly, that would be best."

X and Zero stepped forward, flanking Alia. "There are two possible uses of a signal like this," X said.

"First is as a coordination signal," Zero chimed in. "At some point it will either change or stop, triggering Sigma's followers to take some pre-planned action. As for the second…" he looked to X.

X seemed uncomfortable for a moment. "Possibly a new virus," he said tentatively. "We know that Sigma's interested in it. He's always looked for ways to commit reploids to the Maverick cause. If it worked on Dr. Doppler, it could work on others."

"But every reploid knows not to access unfamiliar messages," Lifesaver objected. "And we all have anti-virus protection for just this reason."

"Besides which, this isn't an executable program," Alia said. "It's nonsense."

"Which is why I agree with Zero that it's probably a coordination signal," X allowed. "But we need to be alert to the possibility."

The Hunters looked to Signas. It amused Signas, at times, to wonder what would happen without him. When he thought that way, it seemed that his only function was to tell people to do things that were totally obvious. Then again, even when everyone knew it was obvious, they still waited for him. Apparently, knowing was not enough without a push. He found it very strange. "Alright, then," he said. "We'll act as if Sigma's using this signal to coordinate his followers. We'll keep a lid on the incident for now and look into treating affected reploids, if they need treatment, later. Zero, X, retake the tower."

"Just them?" said Alia with a frown.

"They're who I need to neutralize Sigma. No one else is capable enough to be of much assistance. We also need to scatter the rest of our Hunters. If this is a coordination signal, we can expect attacks elsewhere in the near future, and our Hunters need to be in position to handle it. Alia, I trust you with their distribution."

Alia looked as if she might protest further, but the requirements of her new mission took priority. "Understood," she said, and set about her task.

"Let's go," Zero said to X, who nodded. Blue and red vanished in an instant.

Douglas stepped next to Signas. "You know, these towers… there're only a dozen of them in this whole country. It wouldn't take much to cut off conventional long-range communications across a wide swath. But what would it accomplish? Not all systems use the towers, not when we've got a satellite network. And it would hurt the Mavericks, too. They use the same infrastructure, so they'd have to rebuild anything they destroy. That's why they've never attacked the towers before. I don't know what they're trying to accomplish."

"Neither do I," said Signas grimly, "but we'd better figure it out soon."

"What do you mean?"

"If there's one thing we know for sure, it's that Sigma's not a martyr. If he's showing himself now, it means he sees something in this maneuver that we don't. He's playing a deeper game than we know."

The command crew went silent. Four sets of eyes watched the same screen, which depicted a red icon and a blue icon moving steadily towards tower L-319.

* * *

Terrestrial creatures were not the only ones responding to the signal. Far above Earth, one reploid reacted to its appearance with unbound delight.

The reploid had decided to go Maverick at the time of the First War. Oh, how Sigma's words had excited him! Even the word "maverick", used by others with such disdain, seemed admirable, even desirable, to the reploid. A maverick was an untamed, unbroken horse. It was a creature with control of its own fate, determined to find its own destiny. If was reckless in doing so, that was the cost of its freedom. Far from being a demerit, that boldness was the essence of the Maverick. To this reploid's mind, that degree of passion and energy was exactly what the world needed. The old had to be done away with to make way for the new.

Untamed, that was the key. The reploid would not be treated like a puppy being housebroken, to be patronized and humored and punished at the whims of his human masters. He had charge of his own head. Sigma had touched a part of the reploid that hadn't been integral to the design, but which he nonetheless possessed: his imagination.

Oh, it could be done, couldn't it? A reploid paradise, liberated from the burdens of the past, something new and wonderful. It would be free of archaic things like the Three Laws that served only to suppress and condemn. It would be like a bird that has just discovered it can fly, and that sees only the grand possibilities of flight.

That was what Sigma had said, and the reploid had been swept along in the narrative, until joining his movement seemed a foregone conclusion. He'd attended a rally hosted by Sigma himself right at the outset of the First War. Afterwards he'd found his way to Sigma and offered his services. To his incredulity, Sigma had acknowledged him—and denied him his destiny.

"Go to space," Sigma had said.

The reploid had tried to explain how he wanted to fight, how he wanted to join the revolution. Sigma had rebuked him.

"I will need you in space, sooner or later. Things are confused enough now that no one will ask where you were tonight, but they will if you're missing tomorrow. You must be above suspicion. Bottle your passion, brother, and await my coming."

Who could refuse a direct order like that? So the reploid went, sullenly, and if anyone noticed his dour mood, well, everyone was down in those dark days. When the First War came to a close with Sigma's defeat, freeing up resources to send the reploid (among others) into space, he went along with it.

There, in space, his unspent energy burned into his metallic heart. What could he possibly do to further the reploid cause here? No sabotage his mind could conceive would kill only the humans. He'd end up killing reploids, too, and that wouldn't accomplish anything. He could create some weapons for himself, but to what end? He was outnumbered and outgunned. Nor could he count on the other reploids helping him. If the others were Mavericks, surely Sigma would have had them strike by now. The reploid had no chance of converting the others to the cause. Sigma had eloquence and charisma and oratorical skill; the reploid did not. If he tried to talk to his fellow reploids, not only would he fail, but they would turn him in for his traitorous views.

The reploid was truly alone and utterly powerless. He ached to do something, but space was as perfect a prison as could be designed. He had become a prisoner in his own mind, and his thoughts filled with blackest despair.

It only became worse as time passed. Every time the reploids rose up but were defeated, the reploid was torn apart by guilt and sympathy. He should have been down there, fighting alongside his brothers. He wouldn't have made much difference, he was sure, but that was hardly the point. He would be doing something, instead of sitting in undeserved safety, building this abominable colony.

Like a pendulum, he swung dangerously between rage and depression. It was all he could do to maintain his behavioral subroutines free from the influence of his moods.

Then _he_ came.

Shortly after the Fourth War, another set of workers arrived. One caught the reploid's eye immediately. It looked like just another worker bot, but it kept looking at the reploid, and the reploid registered a dim, vague, but certain feeling of comradeship. He contrived for the two of them to be alone shortly thereafter. The newcomer turned to the reploid immediately. "You attended a rally just before you came to space, didn't you?" he asked.

Instantly all the dammed-up turmoil inside the reploid burst forth. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!

"Are you still faithful to the cause?" The reploid had blabbered that he was even as embarrassment washed elation right out of his nets. Yes, of course he was, he had wanted to do something to aid the Mavericks, but oh, it was so hard up here, the newcomer didn't understand…

"Be at peace, for your patience has been rewarded. I am Sigma's vessel. You have done well to remain here, and trustworthy. You will soon be given the chance to strike the biggest blow of all!"

The words were water to a parched man, a life preserver to one on the point of drowning. The reploid wanted to sing his joy for all to hear, but he had enough self-control not to. Sigma had explained his plan, then—at least, the reploid's part in it. It was glorious. It was bold, dramatic, bigger than anything anyone had conceived. Yet for all his enthusiasm, for all his passion for the cause, a note of doubt entered the song he'd meant to sing. His imagination had betrayed him. What would become of those reploids aboard Eurasia who would surely perish?

"They're traitors to our cause. They've committed to living side-by-side with the humans and they will not be swayed from that position. They've never given you the slightest sympathy, have they? They've never given you relief in your suffering. Their inaction makes them complicit. In death they'll do more good for our kind than they ever did in life."

Still the reploid pressed on, for wasn't Eurasia a place where reploids could live in the future?

"Eurasia is a trick, a trap! Why should we flee the Earth when we are its rightful rulers? Earth is our home. We are its youngest sons. That was the fatal mistake of Repliforce. They correctly deduced that humans and reploids could not share Earth. But rather than endeavor to take what should have been theirs, they fled. The Hunters cut them down the moment Repliforce turned its back. No, the future of reploids is on Earth."

At last the reploid agreed, though he expressed more certainty than he felt. In fact, if Sigma had asked him to play his role at that moment, he might have failed. But the next day while he was at work he saw the callous way in which the reploids were given the more hazardous assignments, and he saw for himself how unnatural it was for reploid and human to work and live together, and he writhed against the way the humans expected to be obeyed when they spoke. When one of them gave him patronizing congratulations for completing a routine assignment, it was all the reploid could do not to rip the human's lungs out so that he'd never speak again.

The unfeeling cruelty of life made the reploid's choice for him. When he saw Sigma's vessel again, he repeated that he would do anything that was required, even though the newcomer had said nothing. From that day on, he made all the preparations Sigma demanded.

Only one question remained. Why, if Sigma's reach extended all the way here, did he need the reploid?

"You're trusted, whereas I'm not. Your help has been invaluable."

Then, one day, Sigma was gone. The shell of his host was recovered, its neural pathways irreparably destroyed. It sent a wave of fear and distrust coursing through the colony. Everyone knew that reploids didn't commit suicide—loyal ones couldn't, per the Third Law, and Mavericks were more prone to commit homicide. The only thing that kept the reploid above suspicion was an ironclad alibi, and that didn't deter everyone.

For days the reploid found himself wondering if he'd imagined all of it. Had Sigma really been there, or had it been some sort of electronic dream? It all seemed so unreal and unlikely. When he began to think in that direction, all he had to do was hear a human speak, and his determination was renewed. He would be ready.

The signal came as promised. The reploid had been told to expect it, and to be prepared. No one else knew what to make of it, but the reploid moved.

The world needed to be cleansed. He would supply the purgative.

It would be a suppository.

* * *

"Just like old times, eh, X?" asked Zero. There was too much wind for the Hunter's voice to be audible, but the two were riding hover-cycles, which had a private short-range circuit.

X could only smile at Zero's remark. "It does seem familiar. We've done this a couple of times, I think."

"A couple of dozen, maybe."

Even an untrained eye could see the familiarity with which the two rode the hover-cycles. They wordlessly timed their turns so that they came out of them side-by-side. Neither was ever ahead by more than a pace. The lateral distance between them was so constant it could have been used as a measuring stick.

"Hey, Zero? Stay close to me when we get there."

"Why?" was the surprised reply.

"I don't like this, Zero. I don't like this at all. It's so… obvious."

"Are you saying we shouldn't go get Sigma?"

"Well, no, but I can't help but feel that we're playing along. We're not in control of this situation."

"Then let's perform our role with gusto. I'll meet my destiny head-on!"

X found himself unmoved by his partner's enthusiasm. Zero had been invoking destiny more and more recently, usually in his more morose moods. Fatalism did not sit well with X, particularly not from Zero. "No regrets, Zero," he said encouragingly. "We'll do this together, like we've always wanted, side-by-side. Like it was meant to be." He grimaced at his own words. He'd never used phrases like that before, and they left a sour taste in his mouth.

"X?"

"Yes?"

"I won't hesitate."

"Oh?" said X, searching for firmer ground.

"If you were worried about me, don't be. I won't hesitate."

"That's good," said X, hoping it was true. He and Zero were talking past each other, and he could only wonder where Zero was going with this.

Zero seemed to sense X's confusion. "You said 'no regrets', as if to tell me not to regret what I've done in the past. Don't worry. I won't hesitate now. I didn't hesitate then."

Now it became clear. Iris. Zero was talking about Iris again, entirely in the language of subtext. It was unusually subtle for Zero, and disconcerting for X. Really, the fact that Zero was telling him how he was over Iris only served to prove that he wasn't over Iris at all. But there was no more time to discuss it, however much X might have wanted to—the tower was coming up.

"Alia, do we have data on what the Mavericks are up to now?"

"Negative, all feeds have been cut." The coordinator's voice was weak—barely audible above the buzz of background. In moments they would be outside the overlap area with the next-closest tower, and they'd be on their own. "Surveillance pointed to eight Mavericks plus Sigma, but that might have changed by the time you get there. Stay alert."

"We will. Wish us luck."

"You are an insufferable romantic. Very well. Good luck."

"Luck?" said Zero. "We don't need luck when it's the two of us."

"No, but I feel better having it. Let's get this done."

* * *

_Next time: Forzando—A Tempest_


	3. Sforzando-- A Tempest of Metal and Fire

"I count four on the roof. Generic humanoids with stolen blasters."

"A standard one-two, then."

"Yes."

The communications tower was all dishes and transmitters. Every one of its controlling functions existed in the large, unimaginatively square building near its base. When X and Zero emerged from cover several hundred meters from the building, they were already shooting at the four Mavericks on the building's roof. The Mavericks returned fire, but somehow found themselves outgunned.

Each of the Hunters' two arms could end in either a hand or a small plasma cannon, a type of weapon known as a 'buster'. Between the two of them, X and Zero could unleash a torrent of firepower, even while taking care to minimize collateral damage.

The Mavericks ducked for cover. The moment they did, Zero darted forward. The Hunter was capable of quickly accelerating to shocking speed. Few vehicles and no Mavericks could long elude him. Each long stride maintained his velocity, aided by small boosters built into his feet. X kept the Mavericks suppressed, allowing Zero to make his approach unmolested. When he got to the side of the building, he changed direction ninety degrees to the vertical. His feet alternated pushing him up. With one leg he kicked off from the building's side, while with the other he pushed off of thin air with boosters alone. He topped the roof in the Mavericks' midst, to their fatal—but mercifully brief—surprise.

Zero reached over his shoulder and grabbed at a small metal cylinder. As the cylinder cleared his back, the end of it erupted into a short beam of coherent light. Zero brought the saber down to cleave through the first Maverick. It offered no resistance to the Hunter's swing. The saber fused parts that were meant to be independent, combined chemicals meant to stay separate, and slagged the rest, until the whole volatile mixture erupted in flame. Zero stepped coolly through the fire to deliver a horizontal stroke into the second Maverick. Gobbets of molten metal flew from the robot's body as the saber completed its arc. The reploid fell, sparking fitfully.

The two remaining Mavericks were dispatched with equal ease, the last by a supremely accurate headshot from X on ground level. X strolled, alertly but confidently, towards the front door. Zero dropped down beside him with grace and aplomb. The two surveyed the door.

"Looks like they turned it into a barricade," X said.

"Yeah."

"Looks pretty formidable."

"Yeah."

The two Hunters turned to each other and balled up a hand. They shook their fists three times. On the third, Zero extended his first two fingers in a 'v', while X clenched his fist more tightly.

"You always start with scissors," X said with a touch of amusement.

Zero put his hands behind his head and turned away to show how trivial it all was. "All yours," he said.

X faced the barricade and extended his right arm. He paused for a moment. Energy flowed in new directions, secondary systems temporarily suffered, and capacitors built up to their rated levels. When X fired again, the resulting plasma ball was larger than the arm that had fired it.

A bulldozer could not have done more damage to the barricade than X's shot did. The blow had such force that, after blowing away the barricade, it knocked down the wall behind for good measure. X winced. "I think I overdid it."

"There's no kill like overkill," Zero quipped with a shrug. "Come on!"

Knocking down walls, it transpired, had been a popular activity for the Mavericks as well. By the time the two Hunters got to the center-most room—destroying the remaining Mavericks along the way—they saw that most of that floor had been sacrificed to make a single large open space.

Sigma stood on the far side of that space, patient as a cat before a mousehole.

"Welcome, Zero!" he said broadly.

"Sigma," hissed Zero. X noted once more that the leader of the Mavericks was the only thing able to consistently break Zero's composure.

"We have much to talk about, including my new virus… but first, why don't we have a little privacy?"

Sigma snapped his fingers, and that was the last thing X could see. The next moment, strobing lights and blaring, high-pitched noises sent him reeling in sensory overload. He staggered backwards and fell to his knees to the assault. Turning off his auditory sensors was simple enough, even though it impaired combat, but without eyes fighting would be impossible. Any substantial opening of his eyes, though, exposed them to the lights that threatened to put him into a robot's equivalent of an epileptic seizure.

What to do? X opened his eyes just enough that the light registered. The pattern was maddening, but with the lessened intensity, it was barely tolerable. Wait for it… wait for it… It took an insufferably long time for X to get the pattern. There! That was it. The frequency and timing of the light bursts were guided by a pseudo-random program, but no such program could stay ahead of X for long. When X established the pattern, he quickly applied a filter to his optical sensors to screen the lights. He opened his eyes with confidence and was gratified to have no issues at all.

He looked to his best friend and mortal enemy. They appeared deep in conversation, though X couldn't hear their words. He had to wait to follow Zero's lead. When, at last, Zero leveled his arm at Sigma, X dashed to the right to bring the villain under crossfire.

Sigma gestured, cutting off the lights and sounds, then brandished several long cat's claws mounted to his wrists. Zero frowned in disappointment. "Tell me that's not all you've got," he said. X was inclined to agree. They'd beaten a similar version of Sigma before without too much trouble.

Sigma grinned viciously. "It doesn't matter if I live or die. With this blow, history is changed. You've already lost. You just don't know it yet."

Zero gave an equally vicious grin in return. "If you say so, Sigma. But you'll have to see it from Hell!"

The three robots exploded into action.

It is normally the case, when two fight one, that the one has a distinct advantage in coordination and communication. The one is fully in command of his actions, whereas the two are prone to misunderstanding and misalignment. Not so with X and Zero. They'd fought together for so long, and were themselves so evenly matched, that they could move around Sigma stride-for-stride. Every time the Maverick charged, the Hunter he approached faded away, while the other slid into Sigma's blind spot and hammered his back with plasma. The distance amongst the three was always within a few strides of constant. And if ever Sigma stopped, his foes circled like sharks while showering him with blasts from every angle.

It didn't matter when Sigma feinted one way and dashed the other, or tried to box one into a corner. The Hunters were individually too wily for such tricks, and collectively more than a match. And that was true for every aspect of the fight. Sigma would have given either X or Zero a good fight. The two of them together could have easily defeated any conceivable opponent. They were united, undamaged, and at the peak of their powers. Sigma never spared any expense with his bodies, but all that did was delay the inevitable, for the Maverick never had a chance.

Especially since, while his movements were quick as ever, his reactions were so _slow_…

Soon Sigma's armor was cracked and crumbling. Damage seeped through and began degrading his internal components. Before long he could not sprint but only run, then walk, then barely stand. Abruptly Zero changed tactics and dashed in. A rising strike took off both Sigma's arms at the elbow. With impeccable timing, a charged shot from X took Sigma's legs out from under him. All four of Sigma's limbs clattered to the ground.

Zero deftly caught the crippled torso of his foe. "Any last words?" he asked.

Sigma's pain-wracked features returned to their usual spiteful aspect. "You have no idea what's coming for you. You blind, ignorant—"

His words were lost in a blaze of superheated metal and an ear-splitting sizzle. Zero's saber punched through the back of Sigma's neck, having already come down the Maverick's throat.

"You know what? I didn't feel like listening after all," Zero said.

X watched the shell fall without elation. "This can't be the end," he said. "It was too easy. I'm sure there's more… oh, you've got to be kidding me!"

The transmitting signal had cut out with Sigma's destruction, but in the corner, a dull red light had appeared. It was a digital countdown, starting from an uncomfortably low number. A thrill of danger, the first of the entire mission, penetrated through the Hunters. "Come on!" they shouted to each other.

Although Sigma had proven himself adept at strategy and tactics, about some things he was very predictable. For once, however, the dead-man's explosions that rocked the area of Sigma's corpse weren't simply wanton or spiteful. They kept X and Zero from thinking about anything else as they fled the doomed building. Beyond their notice, much was happening.

In some places, marshaled Mavericks were springing into action. In others, reploids and humans alike were looking on in fear at the Hunters deploying in their midst. In others, reploids were wondering at the remarkable transmission they'd received, and the even more remarkable one that followed.

And, high above the furthest reaches of Earth's sky, one being played its final card.

* * *

When the tower fell, the signal vanished. A terse follow-up chased it to Eurasia. It bore the proper codes for universal distribution, though it was meant for just one inhabitant. It read: NOW.

The Maverick reploid cackled to himself. How much consternation the humans must be feeling, to see such an obviously meaningful declaration and not have the slightest idea what it meant. He cackled again when he realized that even their worst fears couldn't touch on the enormity of what was about to happen.

And he knew, now, what had happened, and why Sigma had called his host a vessel. Only one sacrifice was necessary to put the plan in motion. Someone had to see it through—someone whose vision of the future was so compelling it could drive a reploid to suicidal madness.

"For Sigma!" the reploid screamed, and pushed the button.

* * *

Eurasia, to have a permanent orbit, needed to have some maneuvering capability. If nothing else, it had to be able to compensate for the docking of the shuttles that ferried it materiel. At the push of a button, the colony's thrusters lit up as one. But an uneven number were installed, and not all were functioning at the same capacity. The thrust was differential. The colony immediately began to spin. Like a free-falling gyroscope, it tumbled crazily through space.

* * *

On Earth, those who care for satellites watch the skies most closely. At Eurasia's first impulse, alarms lit off in half-a-dozen control rooms. Only one response was possible, and it was universal. "Oh, scrap."

* * *

The reploid had only enough explosive material for one small bomb. That was all it took to disable the colony's communications. At the same time, the colony groaned under the intensity of its maneuvers. It had not been designed to cope with this sort of stress; for all its seeming bulk its walls were thin. Incomplete sections tore loose, while external pieces—and a few workers—were flung from their perches.

Some of this debris fell to Earth straightaway, whilst some was ejected into space. Most, however, fell into decaying orbits around Earth, on paths thickly traveled by pre-existing satellites. The first few, in orbits that took them near Eurasia, never stood a chance. Those further away—a couple thousand kilometers, or a few minutes—had better odds, and the navigators on the ground were able to divert some of them in time. For every one that was saved, one was lost, and every lost satellite became several new pieces of debris. The fragments multiplied at a rate entirely too fast to respond to or even process.

Through the massacre of the satellites, Eurasia fell like a crippled fish, on a trajectory that could only end in one place.

* * *

Hunter Base was in a state resembling suspended animation. Alia directed the dispersion of Hunters, but to the well-practiced it was a trivial thing. All that mattered was the outcome of the main event.

Alia turned her head. "The Maverick signal has stopped."

Signas nodded. "If it was a coordinating signal, there are two ways the Mavericks could be using it. First, that they should act after a certain amount of time past receipt. Second, that they should act after modulation or termination. If it's the first, we'll have to wait and see. If it's the second…"

One of the terminal-bots spoke. "Sir, report from Hunters in sector 7. They've come under Maverick attack!"

Signas began to respond, but another cut him off. "Relay tower L-232 reports it's under attack. Mavericks!"

On the heels of that another said, "We've lost communications with all Hunters and civilian contacts in district 9!"

And another: "Maverick activity reported in—no, I lost signal!"

Yet another: "Distress beacons for the entire 14th unit just activated, but I have no word and no record of attack!"

Still another: "A human police station in area 12 is calling for Hunter backup!"

"I just lost our connection to the Emergency Medical System—and the Security Network—Global Defense—it's all going down!"

And now a cavalcade of calls came in—of Mavericks, of blackouts, of losses of contact, of a new signal that was pervading what communications remained…

"Enough!" shouted Signas. "Initiate silent protocol!"

A dozen vocal generators disengaged. The sound levels in the room quickly fell. All that remained was the constant drone of the terminal-bots' rapid-fire typing, and the staccato rat-a-tat of Alia's controls. The terminal-bots reformed their reports into text and threw them onto the screens. Signas' superhuman reading ability was pushed to its limits to keep up, even with Alia sorting and prioritizing.

They were everywhere!

Or were they? Were they simply in enough places to seem like they were everywhere? Without communications, who could tell?

"Sir," Alia said, though with a tone of strain, "there's a call in for you. It's from the Office of Reploid Relations."

"Put him on hold," Signas said, with more than necessary relish.

"Another call, this one from Space Command."

Signas' eyes never left the screens, but his narrowed eyes and cocked head said it all. "Put that one through."

A woman's face appeared to the side of the primary screen. It was the face of a woman who was past middle age and who evidently felt quite harried for the work she was supposed to be doing. "Commander of the Maverick Hunters?"

Signas answered her. "Speaking. General Denisovich, I presume, commanding officer of Space Command."

The woman allowed the slightest tone of appreciation. "Very perceptive. Perhaps you can answer a more important question. Why am I losing ground communications?"

"If you're losing ground communications how are you making this call?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Being a General has its prerogatives. I can always find a little extra bandwidth. Now answer my question."

"Why am I losing satellite communications?" Signas counter-attacked.

"I asked first."

Signas had to acquiesce to that. "It looks like a combination of pre-set sabotage and pre-arranged Maverick attack. Some of the long-range towers have been knocked out, while Mavericks have seized others. A new signal is dominating the airwaves wherever the Mavericks have influence. It wouldn't be crippling if I could make up with it using satellite systems, but I can't. Why?"

Denisovich looked impatient. "Because of Eurasia, of course."

Alia, Douglas, Lifesaver, and Signas looked very seriously at the General's tiny image. "What about Eurasia?" said Signas slowly.

* * *

X's voice was full of concern. "Even without L-319, we should be in communications range of headquarters by now. I can't raise them."

Zero nodded from atop his hovercycle. "Which means knocking out communications is at least a tactical goal for the Mavericks at this point. But why? They need those towers themselves to coordinate their actions. Where's the profit in it?"

"Maybe they're trying to create conditions of—what's that?"

X and Zero fell silent while they received a new transmission. Playing a hunch, X rolled through the spectrum. "The same transmission is on every frequency and every circuit," he announced. "It looks like Maverick doing. Every reploid in range must be receiving it."

"X, did you actually look at the message?"

"Not yet. Should I?"

"Yes."

X did.

"Zero?"

"Yes?"

"Faster."

"Yes."

The hover-cycles accelerated.

* * *

"Is Sigma behind this?" Signas asked. It was a question from a lower subroutine. The main of his attention was occupied trying to fathom the scope of the problem. A colony falling from the sky will do that to even the most focused.

"How should I know?" answered Denisovich with a touch of affront. "You're the Hunters and I'm out of comms with Eurasia. But I don't believe in coincidences."

"Neither do I," admitted Signas. "How do we restore its orbit?"

"We can't. Even if we could restore communications, by our calculations it's already burned all its fuel."

"If nothing else, we have to stop it from hitting Earth," Signas said. "If you work on that, I'll work on stopping the Mavericks."

The woman looked for a moment like she would say something defiant. She appeared to reconsider. Pride was a luxury she had no time for. "Denisovich out."

Signas returned his gaze to the other screens, which had stalled while he held his conversation with the general. It took only a second to realize he was too far behind to catch up with all of them. "Alia, summarize," he ordered.

"Three units of Hunters have reported contact with Mavericks. Eleven other units are out of all communications, while one appears to have been destroyed outright. All of this since the signal terminated. At least a dozen long-range towers have been destroyed or commandeered. Combined with the loss of satellite systems, this has created a black zone at least the size of Iceland. We're in the middle of it, so there's no telling how great the damage is."

"But the short-range towers are all intact," protested Signas.

"Which is why we can still communicate with the three teams in our immediate area," explained Douglas. "Those long-range towers aren't just repeaters, they also do a lot of routing. It's like the old phone systems. If a short range tower gets a message intended for an address it doesn't own, it doesn't try to figure out who owns it; it just kicks it up to its long-range tower. The long-range towers may not know the exact addressee, but they can send the message to the long-range tower which owns that address, then down to the short-range that owns it, and then down to the recipient. The short-range towers never talk to each other."

"So if you've got a message that needs to travel beyond your tower," said Signas; realization was coming slowly, "it doesn't matter if it's going to a short-range tower next door. It has to go through a long-range tower."

"And that means that it doesn't matter how many short-range towers survive. If we lose the long-range, the whole system is done. It's like having a brain and limbs, but no peripheral nervous system."

"Well, at least we can still talk with—oh, rust me!" Signas exclaimed. "Alia, redirect teams three, five, and eight to cover Space Command, right now!"

"Sir, team eight is still under fire."

"Three and five, then. And get me Denisovich on the line."

"Connecting."

In moments the general's image had appeared again. "Commander Signas. It appears you have a little pull, yourself," she said dryly.

"General, I think the Mavericks consider your command a target," he said without preliminaries. "I'm sending two teams of Hunters to provide protection."

The lights behind Denisovich dimmed for a moment. Dull thumps were audible over the connection. "It appears they may arrive too late," she said in terms so emotionless she seemed a robot herself.

"I'm sorry. I should have sent the teams as soon as I knew space played a part in this."

"Your sympathy is touching, but wasted." Denisovich gave Signas a look as cold and piercing as the point of an epee. "I've briefed the civilians on the crisis, but they're helpless at a time like this. What about you? Can you carry our burdens? Are you prepared to take on our responsibilities in addition to your own?"

Signas didn't hesitate. "I am."

She listened to his response, then gave a curt nod. "I believe you are." She turned her face from the camera and began working at her console. "I'm sending you a data package. It includes our best projections of Eurasia's trajectory and our plan to stop the colony. It also has our analysis of the damage to Earth should we fail."

"I confirm receipt," Alia said.

Another thump—this one louder and longer—rattled the speakers that went to Denisovich's screen. "I prayed this day would never come," she said. "I hope you have the fortitude to see this plan through. The price is high. I hope you don't think too poorly of us when you hear it. I hope—"

The image went to static.

The only sound was the smacking of dozens of metallic fingers against keyboards.

It took all Signas' effort to not allow his hand to tremble as he turned to his underlings. "Douglas, Lifesaver, analyze the general's data. I want a summary and recommendations in fifteen minutes."

"On it," said the green robot.

"It's awaiting you in lab two," Alia called over her shoulder.

"Thanks."

When they were gone, Alia said softly, "And what would you have me do, sir?"

"Keep doing exactly what you're doing."

"Yes sir."

Robots value routine at least as much as humans. It can be a rock in an ocean of turmoil.

* * *

_Next time: Sturm und Drang_


	4. Sturm und Drang

"We have sixteen hours," Douglas said. "Maybe a little more, maybe a little less. The uneven way Eurasia's tumbling makes it hard to know for sure. But sixteen hours, plus or minus one, before impact is pretty reliable."

"If it hits," Lifesaver said, "it will cause devastation on a global scale. A water impact would create a monstrous tsunami that would level every coastal community on the same ocean. A land impact would more than just pulverize anything beneath it. The dust kicked up by the collision would greatly reduce incoming sunlight, dropping temperatures worldwide. The effect on agriculture and solar power generation alike would be catastrophic. And don't even ask about a polar impact."

"So how do we stop it?" said Signas.

"There's only one way. Nuke it."

Douglas' answer was so flippant Signas found himself waiting for the rest of it. When none came, he had to ask. "What do you mean, nuke it?"

"I mean hit it with a nuclear bomb," Douglas said patiently.

"But no nuclear bombs have existed for almost 75 years!"

"Maybe, but the know-how can't be un-learned. The general's data package listed a number of components we could use, held by Space Command directly or by proxy. It makes me wonder if this was their backup plan all along…"

Signas scowled. He knew the history of war and conflict of every kind. For him, nuclear weapons conjured up such portentous phrases as 'balance of terror' and 'mutually assured destruction' and 'Pyongyang-for-Seoul'. He did not care to be the one to exhume such heinous memories. The notion that Space Command might have been skirting the intent of the law while following its letter just made things worse.

"That's not the worst part, of course," said Douglas.

"What could be worse?" asked a startled Alia.

"This act will seal off the planet for the foreseeable future. Space will be lost to us."

"I don't understand."

"As of yesterday, Space Command was tracking 20,000 pieces of space debris—some no larger than your finger, but all moving so fast as to be a mortal threat to a satellite. Eurasia's fall has already doubled the debris count. Destroy Eurasia in orbit and you're looking at millions of bits and pieces traveling at tens of thousands of k-p-h. Nothing will be able to enter orbit and survive."

"So that's what Denisovich meant," Signas said, mostly to himself. "The fortitude to make sacrifices…" The others looked at him expectantly. The weight of the decision held him for a moment. He'd told Denisovich he was ready to save the world, but actually doing it was another creature altogether. Still, there was only one choice. It wouldn't go away if he ignored it and time was of the essence. Some people will say that they were born to make decisions, but Signas actually was created to make decisions. He shouldered the yoke.

"We'll do it," he said. "Technology may make space safe for us in the future, but nothing can bring back the people who'll die if Eurasia hits Earth. We'll follow the general's plan."

Douglas nodded. "Well, there's not much time. The good news is that with Denisovich's list, we know most of what we need, and where to get it. We won't have to do a whole lot of fabrication; most of it's just assembly work, which is far easier. The bad news is that we're not authorized to get any of it. Even if we had Space Command's blessing, a lot of these components weren't even directly held by Space Command. We can't legitimately explain why we need them."

"I'll see what I can do about that," said Signas. "Once we build it, I suppose we can use our own shuttle to get the nuke into space."

"We'll have to—I don't think we can count on the Mavericks leaving any intact at Space Command. The thing is, that means we'll have to do some pretty heavy-duty modifications to the shuttle."

"Which means more parts we'll have to cannibalize or appropriate," Signas said, rubbing his temples in a learned gesture of duress.

"Exactly. Alia? Bring up the graphics I sent you."

One of the screens changed images to show an overhead map of the area within 100 kilometers. A series of colored dots indicated the locations of the needed materials. "These are the closest sources I've been able to find for what we need. Again, though, with all the chaos out there, I don't know how we're going to get it all. I know the last time I tried to order screwdrivers through the regular supply chain, it took three months and they gave me all the wrong sizes."

Signas grit his teeth. He couldn't avoid this any longer. "Alia, patch the minister of the Office of Reploid Relations directly to me."

"Connecting now."

"Lifesaver!" shouted X as he and Zero entered. "What do you think about the virus?"

"What virus?" said the flat-footed medic.

"Sigma's virus! Remember how that Maverick transmission wasn't anything useful? When we silenced the tower, a second transmission started playing from a bunch of other towers, on every circuit and frequency. If you access it, a short message tells you to use it in case the government declares war on reploids. As far as Zero and I can tell, it interacts with the first file. It probably turns it into an executable program."

"A two-step virus?" exclaimed Lifesaver.

"Maybe. We'd both quarantined the first message, so the second couldn't touch it when we got it. But there's no telling how many reploids have both parts, or how many of those have used it."

"Or, if it is a virus, what it does," added Zero.

X nodded. "We have samples for you. You should probably send them to Dr. Cain, quick as you can."

"And we'll need to terminate the signals." Zero was always quick to focus on such things.

"There's no time for that," said Signas, re-entering the conversation. "We're under 16 hours until Eurasia hits Earth and ends civilization as we know it."

"_Huh?"_ X looked up at the screens. He found the one showing the colony's trajectory. "Oh, rust me," he breathed.

"We have a plan to stop it, but it means we won't be able to do much else. Stopping that transmission, whatever it is, will have to wait. This has to take priority. Douglas has given us his shopping list. X, Zero, each of you will take a heavy loader team and half the list. Get what we need and get back. Use whatever means you need to."

X frowned. "What do you mean, "whatever means"?"

Signas huffed impatiently. "Alia, report fail-safe protocols for critical infrastructure."

"In the event of a state of emergency, all critical infrastructure is to enter lockdown and prohibit entry to all personnel. Only a properly coded contravening order directly from the government can override this lockdown. Defensive protocols are authorized."

"It's the government's response to how the Mavericks have been able to seize important things like power plants and waterworks in the past," Signas amplified. "The trouble is that without communications, they won't be able to send the stand-down order. And, since what we're building is technically—make that really—illegal, we won't be able to reason with them effectively."

Zero scowled. "Then how do we get them to give us what we need?"

"Excuse me, Alia," Signas said. The surprised coordinator stepped out of his way. Soon Signas had put a new video on the main screen. It was the minister of the Office of Reploid Relations—the Hunters recognized him immediately. "On behalf of the entire government—" a seal appeared in the corner with a complicated spread of numbers verifying the authenticity of this claim—"I hereby declare martial law for sectors A-6 to L-12. All citizens and reploids are to clear the streets immediately. All citizens and reploids are to cooperate with the Maverick Hunters in resolving this crisis. Any citizen in defiance may be detained indefinitely—habeas corpus is hereby suspended for the duration. Any reploid in defiance shall be summarily declared Maverick, and will be terminated accordingly."

It was too much. First the rebellion, then the colony, and now martial law—it was more than most robots could think about at one time. When the speech-writers had written the government's declaration, they'd selected the word "terminated" as an attention-getter. It worked.

The Hunters stood motionless as they tried to make sense of the new development. One robot, however, already knew exactly what he thought about it.

"No," said Zero in a voice like escaping steam. "This isn't right." He stepped forward and glared at the picture of the minister, which remained in place on the screen.

"It's so callous," X said uncomfortably.

"It's so _wrong_!" Zero shouted. "The label of 'Maverick' was never supposed to be used this way!"

"Now a lot of reploids will be pushed, like it or not, into Sigma's camp," X said gloomily. "The government has eliminated the middle ground. It almost makes Sigma seem like the reasonable one."

"I know this is an extreme measure, but this is an extreme situation," Signas said.

"It's a stupid situation," Zero said, not allowing Signas to say any more in defense of the government. "We're doing exactly what Sigma wants us to do! How many reploids are right now opening those messages because of this? How many will I have to kill because of human stupidity?"

Signas would not be shouted down. "Ask that question of the one who's dropping a colony on Earth! I don't want this power, Zero, I don't want this authority, it repulses me. But it's the only tool I have to stop this calamity!"

Zero was not affected by these words. If anything, they fueled the flame of his anger. "And now I'm expected to kill reploids who are just doing their jobs! On behalf of the government who ordered them to do it that way!"

"What, you don't think we'll be able to get through to them?" X asked.

"No, and you know exactly why," Zero raged.

X closed his eyes and let his shoulders slump. "Because we're acting like Mavericks. What lawful end could be served by storming critical infrastructure? Then there's the virus—just knowing a virus is out there makes us suspect. And on top of that, we're building an illegal weapon."

"Don't get me started about the nuke. It's bad enough that we've forced ourselves into this position. It's pathetic that things have gotten so bad the government had to establish lockdown procedures like this. Humans and reploids don't trust each other, and now some will have to die so others may live. We're locked into a gross injustice because… because humans and reploids just can't live side-by-side!"

Zero's declaration reverberated in the small room. Zero turned this way and that like a cornered dog, daring any of the others to speak. X looked at his friend as if his words had caused him physical pain. "Zero," he protested.

"Not now, X! We are living the antithesis of your dream! I don't want to hear about it any longer! You're always talking about how we're the good guys, and we have to be the good guys to keep from creating new Mavericks. Well, good guys don't do bad things. You can't tell me we have to do this and then insist that we're the good guys!"

The other Hunters stood stock-still as Zero raved. They'd known him for a long time, and his composure was famous. They'd actually held a contest once to see if any of them could make him mad. They'd ended up with no winner.

To see Zero lose control like this, on top of everything else…

"You don't see the government asking us to kill off humans—we're just supposed to detain them if they get in our way. What's the difference, huh? _What's the difference?!"_

"Enough." Signas stepped forward. He was larger than Zero and tried to use that size to loom over the smaller robot. "We have no more time for philosophy. I am ready to sacrifice my honor, dignity, and life to save the Earth. You want to save it too, Zero. I know you do, but you hate the price. Well, blame me. I'll take that responsibility. It's my fault for ordering you into this."

"Order?" Zero laughed derisively. It was the sort of laugh that makes the target seem smaller, as if Zero was somehow domineering Signas. "You've never given me an 'order', Signas. And you never will."

He turned and stormed towards the door. X tried to reach out to him, but Zero was moving too quickly. X's hand closed only on air. The red Hunter stopped inside the doorframe. The light from the hallway illuminated his outline but obscured the details of his body. Only one thing could be seen clearly—his face.

Many a time, a calm, cool, efficient Zero had stood in that position. It was a world away from the wild-eyed apparition that appeared there now. He spoke. "I will do what I must to stop Eurasia. And that… is all."

"That's all I could possibly ask for," called Signas after him, but the words never reached their target.

Zero's departure allowed a void to settle into the room. Too many new and unprecedented things were happening for any of the Hunters to be on solid ground. Through the turmoil, X felt something that caused him to put a hand over his chest. It was the burning, again. It was a sensation he hadn't described to many. It was personal, and he had no way of knowing if any others felt it. To him, it was real, and powerful, and compelling.

When his mind was divided, it was the burning in his heart which told him, _Act._

"I'd better head out, too," X said. He chased after Zero.

Alia called to him, "I've uploaded all the data I can on the parts you and Zero need to get, as well as their locations and probable guardians. It'll be waiting in your hover-cycle. I'll try and update it as long as you're in communications range."

"Thanks, Alia. I'll mention that to Zero."

Signas managed to regain some of his bearing. "Douglas, you've got a lot of work to do. You'd better get started. Lifesaver, investigate this new virus. Work with Dr. Cain if you must. I need to know what's actually happening out there."

There was a chorus of acknowledgements and a push for the door. Alia waited until she and Signas were alone again with the terminal bots. "Sir, if you'll excuse me breaking decorum, I think you're doing a great job."

Signas actually laughed. "You do?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's more than I would say for myself. Well, I'll forgive you this once. But I forbid you from saying so again for the next… oh, 17 hours or so."

Alia smiled a gallows smile. "I read you loud and clear, sir."

Everywhere, public order was rapidly disintegrating. Paranoia seized control. The communications blackout paralyzed most organs of government that existed, while others found themselves fighting for their lives against small teams of Mavericks. In a few places, the presence of Hunters (when those Hunters were not in active combat) kept things under control. In most places, people headed to their homes and battened down the hatches; they were very much in practice at doing this from the four previous wars.

But in some places, the unresolved problems of reploids and humans boiled over. The blackout was the starting bell; everyone who experienced it knew that it was now open season. Those who were inclined to act beyond the law seized their chance when the law evaporated.

The results were seldom pretty…

_15 hours until impact…_

Five humans descended upon the restaurant. All of them carried anti-robot pulsers, though one carried his carelessly in the crook of his arm. That, and the way in which the other four deferred to him, marked him as the leader.

The four gathered by the door and looked to the leader for permission. He gave a curt nod. One of the humans gave the door a mighty kick which knocked it in despite the deadbolt. The humans swarmed inside. They moved through the darkened eating area in the direction of the kitchen.

An older, portly, balding man—who you could tell at a glance ran a restaurant because he liked food more than he liked money—emerged from the kitchen to head them off. "Hey, you hooligans, clear out! We're closed!"

"Relax, pops," said the leader. The momentum of the intruders forced the owner, stumbling, backwards. "We're not here for an early lunch. We're here for your bot."

"Now, that's no business of yours," the man said, but he might as well have been trying to stop the tide. Soon his whole attention was devoted to not falling over. They pushed him into the kitchen, where he fell against a counter. "Stay out! I demand you leave the premises at once!"

The voice was meant to be authoritative. A breeze would have slowed the intruders more. "Don't worry, pops, we'll be gone before you know it."

The invaders fanned out through the kitchen, though the only other two occupants were visible from the start. The first was a woman quite as old and fat as her husband and co-owner, while the second was none of those things. It was a Model-XX Handyman, which the restaurant owners (in a fit of creativity) had nicknamed Andy. It was skeletally humanoid, with long, dexterous limbs and a plain off-white color scheme (slogan: "Matches any décor!"). Its face had an array of lights to create its mouth and nose rather than the more expensive like-flesh. Although its vocal processors had long-since malfunctioned, it had a variety of beeps and whistles that, along with the lights, meant it was always able to get its point across to the restaurant owners. Now, the lights were illuminated in a long, tight, horizontal line, while the robot's eyes stared unblinkingly at the closest pulser. The only sound it was making was the chattering of its fingers against the glass it had been washing.

"What's this about?" the woman demanded. "Explain yourselves!"

"We're the Neighborhood Safety Committee," the leader said, "and we're taking precautions to protect you and those around you."

"Then you've got no reason to be here," the wife declared. "Andy has been part of our household since the first reploids came out!"

"'Andy'? You named it?" The leader clucked at the wife. "Better not to get so attached. It makes the inevitable betrayal sting that much more."

The owner tried to get to his feet and failed. Instead he called up, "You're out of your minds. Andy's harmless!"

"That's what they want you to think," the leader retorted. "But they don't fool us. They always go mad. This is the fifth war—the fifth time they've gone crazy! And that's not counting the onesie-twosies. Take it from us. There's only one way to be sure."

At that the glass slipped from Andy's hands. He would have been quick enough, normally, to catch it before it hit the ground. He dared not move. So the glass shattered against the tiled floor, and if anything penetrated the thick fear that enveloped his robot brain, it was a touch of regret at the waste, and more than a little sadness that he had disappointed the owner and his wife.

"I'm already sure about Andy," the wife said. "Don't you hurt him!"

"Hurt _him_?" said the leader with more heat in his voice. "Lady, we're keeping him from hurting _you_. You should be thanking us. We leave him alone, and one day, he'll poison all your customers, while you and your husband will be the secret ingredients in the house special stew. Don't believe me? We've all seen it." He gestured to his comrades. "Every one of us has had his life torn apart by Mavericks. Why, Julian there lost four sisters on the same day! Trust me on this one, granny. We're doing you a favor."

"I won't let you!" The wife stepped in front of the one called Julian until she was between his pulser and Andy. "I know those weapons. They only hurt robots. They won't work on me!"

Julian swung the butt of the weapon at the woman's head. It connected solidly with a thunk that reverberated in the small room. She fell sideways in a daze. She put a hand to her cut ear. It was bleeding profusely.

"Looks like it works after all," Julian sneered.

"Enough of this," said the leader. "Do it."

Julian stepped over the woman, while a comrade of his closed in on Andy from the opposite direction.

Andy went limp at the first strike. He fell like a marionette whose strings have been cut. The lights on his face burnt out along with his marvelous brain. The humans didn't stop, of course. Two in the chest, one in the head. That was how they did things. If it was massive overkill in this situation, that was no reason to change procedure.

The wife screamed a horrible scream that reached high beyond the male register. She seemed to have lost the need to breathe, as the scream went on and on and on. The husband crawled on hands and knees over to the inert pile of metal that, in his mind, he still called Andy, and which until seconds earlier had helped make the restaurant a life and not just a living. If he failed to cry, it was an anatomical failure, not an emotional one.

The Neighborhood Safety Committee stepped outside. The day was a cool one, and the air felt good after the cramped kitchen. One of them popped a cigarette into his mouth.

"Every time?" said Julian with irritation. "Those things'll kill ya, you know."

"Piss off," said the smoker.

They all stood in quiet after that as they relished the satisfaction of a job well done.

"Well," said the leader languidly, "where to next?"

"I hear there's a barber on Third who keeps a bot in-house."

"A bot with blades near people's necks and faces? Oh, hell no. Alright, boys, break's over."

And so it went. Low-level violence bubbled up in the cities and towns of the blacked-out areas. Pogrom and counter-pogrom swept through as rogue Mavericks and human vigilantes moved to cleanse their respective zones. The weak and isolated swiftly became the doomed and dying. Nor did it end easily there. Realized fears and the need for vengeance swelled the ranks of the violent. The enemy was often the best recruiter.

This didn't happen everywhere, nor with uniform intensity. But in a rapidly growing area, the most militant on both sides made it abundantly clear that the old order could no longer hold.

Every hour it got worse.

Every hour, Eurasia fell.

_14 hours to impact…_

_Next time: Poco a Poco—Following Orders_


	5. Poco a Poco-- Following Orders

_14 hours to impact…_

* * *

How ironic that the power plant had lost electricity.

Granted it wasn't a power plant per se. It was a combination research lab, enrichment facility, and breeder reactor, so electricity generation was a secondary priority at best. It was still strange to see its operators struggle to allocate what battery power remained between lights, reactor safety, and various security systems.

X had been warned to expect this; Alia's research had been superb. The security chief's idea of lockdown was to seal off any mechanism for outside influence, even the power lines. They'd seen it in a drill they'd run simulating such an exigency. Because of the plant's many uses, it could either supply or demand power, and at the time of the lockdown, it was a demander. So now, despite all the electrical equipment inside the facility, it had barely enough juice to keep itself safe.

X hoped that meant he wouldn't run into too many guards. If they couldn't communicate, they couldn't coordinate against him.

He dithered outside the entrance to the facility. Having a hope was not the same as having a plan. Zero was right about this much: X would not relish killing reploids who'd done nothing wrong. Could he do this without killing anyone?

He doubted it.

Grimacing, he banged hard against the outer gate. "Hey! It's Megaman X, of the Maverick Hunters! I don't suppose you'd let me in, would you?"

There followed a period of highly predictable silence.

X sighed. He could blast his way through the doors, but it would take time and considerable weapons energy. Creating a new entrance elsewhere was risky because he wouldn't know where he'd be going in. Maybe there was a way to commandeer the door…

That was it. He snapped his fingers at the thought. It all came down to order of operations. He was put in mind of "the chicken and the egg", that old human riddle. Unsolvable, perhaps, but stimulating. This problem, in contrast, was imminently solvable.

Normally having access to the power supply to a door was worthless. The alarm circuit was independent and the door was set to fail "locked". In this particular case, it might be worthwhile…

Electrical engineering was not X's forte, but he could hot-wire competently. There, that should do it: the circuit would close entirely within its panel. It had no power, but X could solve that problem. In a pinch, he *was* a source of power.

He had a lot of it, too. Maneuvering and firing weapons demanded plenty of energy. The biggest demand on his supply was always the self-repair system. Under most circumstances, his ability to fight wasn't limited by damage itself, but by the energy cost to repair that damage. For as trivial a task as completing the circuit to a door, he had more than enough.

The door popped open.

_So it was the egg after all,_ X thought with a grin. His guess had been right. Squid Adler hadn't thought the sequence through very carefully. He'd cut the power before all systems received the lockdown order. The doors had lost power and failed "locked", but the last command they'd received was "unlocked". Reapplying power would cause them to pick up where they'd left off. If he was lucky, the rest of the doors would be like that.

His upbeat attitude almost cost him. Since he was in battle mode, he noticed the attack in time. Shots were coming at him the moment he came through the door.

"Intruder!"

He ducked back behind the doorframe before the shooting started in earnest. Blasts sailed past him, frequently enough that choosing an opening would be difficult. They had to make this difficult, didn't they?

X listened and watched for a good thirty seconds. Whoever these security troops were, they weren't exactly the cream of the crop. The blasts going through the doorway took a lot of different angles—different enough, X determined, that it wasn't a product of choice as much as of inaccuracy. There were two or three long intervals when all the guards were reloading at once, something that would never happen with fully trained troopers. The implication was that these _weren't_ fully-trained troopers. Was that part of Squid Adler's protocol? Anyone who could carry a weapon became a guard?

Yes, that made sense. Now that X thought about it, the swiftness of Adler's lockdown probably trapped inside a number of workers and scientists who had no business being here in such an emergency. They wanted nothing more than to go home…

There was a chance, here, and X would seize on any chance he was given. He called out, loudly as he could to get over the sounds of weapons fire, "Hey! This is Megaman X! I'm a Maverick Hunter! I'm on your side!"

The blasts stopped. "Say that again?" said one brave voice.

"I'm Megaman X! I'm on your side—I'm a Maverick Hunter!"

"You can't prove that."

"Sure I can, but you'll have to not shoot me when I come through the door."

That caused a stir. Stressful situations are hard enough to get through when you can rely on practice and repetition. Demanding someone think on their feet in such circumstances is almost unfair. That was, X thought to himself, the general idea.

The voice called back again. "We've decided we don't care even if you are a Maverick Hunter. You can't come in."

It wasn't what X was hoping for, but the window of opportunity was still open. "In that case, I'd be willing to surrender."

X could almost hear their confusion. "What do you mean, surrender?"

"I'd be willing to come quietly under your custody. You'd take me to your security chief, and he'd decide what to do with me."

Letting other people make decisions, the guards thought, sounded very appealing. As appealing as it was, they couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling that something wasn't quite right. "Why should we want to take you in custody? Can't you just stay out there?"

"No, I've got business to discuss with your security chief."

"He didn't tell us anything about that."

Time to bluff. "Well, he wouldn't. He's not the sort of person who's trusting with others. You didn't have a need to know."

The murmurs were audible this time. X breathed a sigh of relief. He'd known Squid Adler, once upon a time—he had also been a Maverick Hunter. He and X hadn't been close by any means, but even with their shallow professional association X had heard Squid Adler use the phrase "need to know" several times. It looked like that much, at least, hadn't changed.

A different voice piped up. "How do we know you won't start attacking the moment you're inside?"

"You can guard me however you want, with as many of you as you want. I won't complain."

"Why would you let us detain you?"

"I told you, I have a very urgent message for Squid Adler. He needs to receive it. How do you think I knew how to get through the door?"

X's conscience protested a little at that. He told himself it wasn't really a lie, since the question could be answered truthfully. His conscience insisted that it was meant to deceive, so it should count as a lie. He countered by saying that lying to these security bots was a lesser evil than killing them.

"What if we say no?"

"Then you'll force me to attack," said X, and he required no acting to inject a note of regret into the statement. "I'm under very clear orders. I'm sure you know how it is."

"We know."

"So? There's one way we can both fulfill our orders."

"We're not really following orders if we let you in…"

"You're not letting me in, you're detaining me. That's what you'd do if I did attack, isn't it?"

That did it. "Alright! Come out with your hands up!"

X did so gladly. His impression was confirmed. Two of the six "guards" were uniformed, full-time guards. Two of the others were reploid workers, a third was a human scientist, and the last was a bewildered-looking janitor. X's conscience admitted that killing them would have felt awfully bad, and went to a metaphorical corner to sulk about the whole situation.

They surrounded X as if they were circumscribing a hexagon. X resisted the urge to bury his face in his palm. As inaccurate as these amateurs were, if he made any sincere attempt to dodge, they'd probably all kill each other.

"Follow me," said one of the guards. "Everyone, we'll keep this formation as we take him in."

"But we won't all fit," protested one of the workers.

"Well, what's your idea, then?" the guard said indignantly.

"Maybe we should all go single file? Three in front, three behind? He can't kill us all, like that."

X decided not to tell them that, in a formation like that, one use of Double Cyclone probably would kill them all. Sharing that little tidbit would be counter-productive.

"Fine," huffed the guard. "You get to be right ahead of him."

The worker squirmed uncomfortably at that, but he had no recourse. X waited for them to sort themselves out. He tried not to make a fuss. He could control his impatience, though he still suffered from it. Light, they were so stupid, and every moment he wasted Eurasia fell towards Earth…

At last they were organized to their liking, and they set off deeper into the complex. They got exactly one door in before they came to a complete stop.

"Power's gone to the door," the guard reported. "I'm trying to raise Central, but it's no good."

Those with weak conviction stumble on the smallest obstacles. Only X had any sort of constructive response, since only he had a true stake in getting through. "I might be able to get the door open," he offered.

The next few seconds saw the guards suspended awkwardly between distrust and powerlessness. In other circumstances, X might have laughed at the absurdity of it. "Fine, give it a shot," said one of the guards.

X walked forward. It was harder this time, and not because the panel was wired any differently. He didn't know what the door had been like when the lockdown came. Moreover, he had half a dozen people staring at him while he worked. It shouldn't have mattered, but it did.

When he restored power, the door unlocked, but didn't open. "Looks like we're going to have to lift it," he said.

"It might be a trick," said one of the workers.

The guards looked at each other. "Lift it yourself," said one, "and we'll watch."

X rolled his eyes. They just had to make this difficult. _You'd have to do this anyway if you'd killed them,_ he reminded himself, _but it would seem heavier, wouldn't it?_

They had few more difficulties before finding the security center. The security center door still had power. It opened. The security chief was not expecting them. Adler's eyes raised as they walked in, then narrowed. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

The guards had started walking in. Adler's words stopped them cold. "Er… we have a prisoner," said one.

"A prisoner? _A prisoner_? Why are we taking prisoners? We're not law enforcement. We're security. No one comes in!"

"Well, he said he had a message for…"

"I don't care!" Adler thundered. "This is a simple job and I gave you simple orders! No one comes in!"

"I'm already here," X volunteered, pushing his way inside.

Adler's four robotic tentacles had been arrayed around him like an aura. They'd been twitching in agitation. When X entered, they lowered behind Adler's humanoid torso. X wondered what emotion that was supposed to convey. It was hard to tell with such an eccentric design. It was as if someone had attached a squid to a human neck and transplanted the tentacles to the spine. If Adler's face was any indication, though, anger was the order of the day.

Adler surveyed X for several seconds. His eyes went back to his underlings. "Get out of my sight," he said.

"But what…"

"OUT!"

There was no more discussion. They were glad to be gone.

"It's so hard to get good help these days," Adler mumbled as he shook his head slightly. He refocused on the blue robot. "Megaman X," he said.

"Squid Adler," X answered curtly. "I need a couple of special items. They're in your inventory as belonging to Space Command."

"Come on, now," Adler said. "No 'hello'? No 'how have you been'? It hasn't been that long."

"Sorry. I don't have much time."

"Sure you do. You have as much time as I say you have. No rush."

"You don't understand. I'm on a very strict schedule. You see, there's…"

"I don't care," Adler said, waving a tentacle dismissively. "Whatever you say is not going to make any difference. This facility, and everything in it, was entrusted to my care. I won't violate that trust. So don't bother."

X wouldn't let go. "I respect that, I really do. I wouldn't even ask if it wasn't important. That's why you have to listen to me. I need for you to understand. Eurasia's…"

"You were like this then, too," Adler said with irritation. "Always all-business. Always on a mission. Always convinced it was up to you to save the world. I found it really obnoxious."

A new idea fanned the embers of hope in X's chest. Was Adler giving him a hint? Was he setting the conditions to give him what he wanted? If small talk was what Adler needed to give up without a fight, X would tolerate it. "Sorry. It takes a lot to shake me out of that mindset. I never noticed that it bothered you. You've always played it close to the vest."

"Vest? Who wears a vest in this day and age? Even when you were built vests were passé."

"You knew what I meant, didn't you? Isn't that all that matters for idiom to have done its work?"

"It's much better to say what you mean. We shouldn't risk confusion when clarity is an option. I prefer things to be more concrete."

"Then why do you use your speaking voice? Monotone gets the point across. Or you could communicate entirely via text. Inflection and pronunciation can aid understanding, but they can get in its way, too."

"Clever, but that's an apples-to-oranges comparison, because…" Adler trailed off. "I just did it, didn't I?"

X grinned. "I win."

A cross expression came to Adler's face—not that it had much variation to it. "Is that what you thought this was? Some kind of game? And I bet you expect me to give in now, don't you, all storybook-like? Well, I won't say I'm sorry to disappoint you, X, because I'm not. I just wanted to see if you were physically capable of having a normal conversation, since we never had one when we were both Hunters. It changes nothing."

"But the government's declared martial law…" X said without hope.

"And?" said Adler. "Martial law is not a stand-down order. Stand-down orders come through the proper channels, on the proper frequencies, with the proper cyphers, and so on. Anything else is just noise—and I will block it out."

"Can't you see?" X said. "I have orders to get these components! It's important and I have to obey! Why would you stand in my way?"

"Because those are _my_ orders. By the Second Law, I can't give in. You'd be forcing me to go Maverick—what an irony that would be!"

X despaired. He'd wasted too much time already, and accomplished nothing. He couldn't afford to delay any longer. To say that Eurasia's fall was on his mind would disservice the robot. He'd developed a new subroutine that was tracking the time remaining to stop the fall. He'd already calculated the rate of parts acquisition that would allow the Hunters to destroy the colony. Part of the subroutine continuously compared the needed rate to the actual rate. Since he hadn't gotten any parts yet, the subroutine was periodically blaring alarms in his mind.

He was so far behind it seemed like it might imperil his next mission. He was burning time on opening doors politely and negotiating and engaging in pointless discussions and each act was like a needle-prick to the brain because _Eurasia was falling and he wasn't stopping it_.

No more. "You're going to force me to get rough, aren't you?"

"Force you? Force _you_? This is why I left the Hunters, X, right here. It couldn't just be a job, could it? You couldn't let things stay simple. You were always complicating things. You felt it had to be something more. It made me so uncomfortable I couldn't stay around you. That's why I left the Hunters, though of course you didn't ask. It wasn't a job anymore, you'd turned it into a cause, and it was a cause I didn't believe in. Now here you are, and you've complicated things until we're enemies for no good reason."

"But there _is_ a reason, if you would just let me explain…"

"NO!" Adler shouted. "No explaining! I have a job to do, and I'm no Maverick, so you have no business interfering with me! Stop making your stupid threats, which are all the more galling because in your mind they're not threats. Leave now, or I, X, will get rough with you."

The change in X's demeanor and posture was noticeable. "I really am sorry," he said.

"Drop dead."

"I'll try not to."

Squid Adler began his attack, and…

When Adler was a Hunter, he'd been a protégé of Launch Octopus, whom he'd called Octopardo. Octopardo had gone Maverick along with Sigma during the First War, and paid the price. Common opinion amongst the Hunters was that the shock and pain had driven Adler out of the group. X had another explanation now, though it hardly mattered. Fewer people knew exactly how Octopardo had met his fate—namely, that he was on the wrong end of X's buster.

X's battle with Squid Adler wasn't quite the same—they weren't underwater, for one thing. Yet from time to time he saw Octopardo instead of Adler. He saw a dead robot where he knew a live one to be. And he knew where it would be in advance. X's tactical memory was peerless and, to use a phrase Adler would have hated, the apple didn't fall far from the tree.

It was so uneven X found himself able to hold back and disable rather than kill. His final blow was almost cruel in its precision. Adler slumped to the ground, pinning most of his tentacles, his drive system damaged almost to paralysis.

Despite the damage, Adler's brain was working perfectly. He made the sound of a resigned sigh. "Kill me. Do it quickly."

"Why do you think I'm here?" X replied. "I would have told you, but you wouldn't listen! Murder is not my mission. I don't want to kill you. What a waste that would be. I'm here for some uranium—nothing more, nothing less. I'm retrieving a few special containers owned by Space Command and seconded to this site for safe-keeping. "

"So now you're a thief?" Adler snarled. "I thought more of you."

"I'm letting you live, aren't I?"

"That just means you don't have the guts to kill me. Ha! I'm as good as dead, anyways. Tell me, X, if I can't obey the orders of my human masters, am I still acting in accordance with the Second Law? What's left for me, then, but death or going Maverick?"

X hesitated. He wanted to tell Adler that there was room for interpretation, but "shall" was such an uncompromising term. "You'll have to work that out for yourself. I think you did an admirable job, but I don't have time to discuss this. I've wasted far too much already. I need that uranium, Adler."

"I won't help you."

"I'm not asking you to help me. I'm merely insisting that you not move for a minute or two."

X walked to the panel Adler had been working at. It was a trifle for him to get the information he needed, even with half of his attention monitoring Adler. The reploid never moved and made no sound but a low-grade sizzle as his armor cooled.

"Alright. I know what to get and where it is. I suppose it's too much to ask for your security troops to let me through?"

"Go rust yourself."

"I suppose I should have expected that. Luckily there's another way." X walked over to Adler and placed a hand on the larger robot's head.

"What are you doing? Get away from me!" Adler said shrilly.

"I won't hurt you," X said in soothing tones.

"You're—I know what you're doing! You're violating me! Get away from me, you disgusting rust-bucket prototype scrapheap!"

X had nothing to say to that. He waited mutely for the process to complete. Tri-Thunder, was it? X hated electricity-based attacks. They worked against so few targets, they usually required physical contact, and they were useless against airborne enemies. Still, it might come in handy. And it would give him what he needed.

Adler's demands for obedience meant that any order from him wouldn't be questioned. X didn't have that order, but he could pretend he did. Anyone who was allowed to copy the boss's weapon had to be on the boss's errand, right?

Adler's voice chased X out the door. "I hope you die a slow, painful death for this, X! You've humiliated me and defiled me! I can't stand it! Why didn't you just kill me like you killed Octopardo?!"

"You said it yourself," X said. "You're not a Maverick. I hope you stay that way."

It was so inadequate, X knew. Pride is such a fragile thing. No apology can ameliorate such a crime.

X set off in the direction of his prize. His heart was heavier than you might expect. He knew that no one had died. He also knew why: a perfect storm of problems in his target, and a colossal investment of X's very limited time. He doubted either of those would be available in the future. And what would become of Squid Adler? There was no way to know, but leaving him alive seemed almost as much a curse as a blessing.

X hadn't sinned yet, but he would soon, and knowing that was almost worse.

* * *

The security robots never knew what hit them.

X's calling card had always been methodical and deliberate attacks. Zero's, in contrast, were speed and ferocity.

The security system alarmed at his arrival. It didn't matter in the slightest. By the time the perimeter guards got to his point of entrance he was already at the first checkpoint. By the time reinforcements reached that checkpoint he'd already gotten to the second. By the time anyone realized he was headed directly for the site operator's control center, only a quartet of guards was in position to stop him.

Zero went through them.

To say he didn't aim wouldn't be totally accurate. He was precise in his movements and hit with every attack. He merely didn't discriminate. He sliced or shot whatever body part was closest. For one of the guards, that was his weapon. For another, it was his arm. For a third, it was his chest. For a fourth, it was his head.

All the same. Each strike left an opponent unable to fight. That was all that mattered.

He left the survivors behind, uncaring as to their fate, and carved his way through the blast doors sheltering the command center. The center was built to over-sized dimensions to accommodate its owner. Duff McWhalen recognized Zero immediately. He turned his massive bulk to face him. "Zero, what are you—"

His words were lost in a rush of wind. Zero's boosters drowned them out.

Duff stepped backwards in panic. That small motion kept the saber slice from cutting too deeply. Duff tried to forget the superficial wound to allow him to counter-attack. Zero's busted fired back along the trajectory of Duff's shot, not only blasting through the reploid's projectile but damaging the launcher in the bargain.

Duff roared in pain. He stepped forward to grab Zero in his arms. Zero's dodge-and-return was so fast it was as if Duff's arms passed right through him. Three more saber cuts followed, each one sending a blaring warning to Duff's processors. Zero had marked off a square area in Duff's armor. Any sort of blow to the middle of it would collapse the whole section…

Desperate, Duff leapt forward to body-slam Zero. If nothing else, this would cover up his exposed chest. The attack looked as foolish as an elephant trying to step on a mouse. It was even less successful. When Duff slid to a halt, Zero leveled his saber at the reploid's eye.

He smiled.

Size and strength confer a lot of confidence, even when they're not tested. It is not pretty when that confidence is shattered.

Duff shuddered. His eye burned from staring at the brightness of the saber's blade, but he couldn't look away. No deer had ever seen headlights like this. The distance was all of two centimeters. Zero couldn't sneeze, which was just as well. It would have been perhaps the world's first lethal sneeze.

"Listen carefully," Zero said. "I'm about to extinguish my saber, but don't get any clever ideas about taking the opportunity to break free. All I'm doing is saving power. I'm going to reposition the hilt of the saber even closer to your head. Should you move in any sort of suspicious way, or answer a question in a way I don't like, I'll light it up." He considered Duff for a moment. "I don't even know if your brain is back there. I suppose I'll have to dig around until I find it."

"I won't move," Duff said. The message was as clear in his tone as his words.

"Hm? Well, if you say so. Now then…" Zero did as he had promised, then leaned in closer to Duff. "Tell me how to access your stores of deuterium and tritium. I need some of each."

The demand was so absurd Duff got hung up on it and couldn't start thinking about a proper response. "Are you really Zero?" he said.

"Is THIS real enough for you?"

"Yes, yes, YES, yes. Sorry."

"Your deuterium and your tritium, Duff."

"But… why? We keep an ample supply for fusion research, but you're… not a… researcher…"

"No, I'm more of an applied science kind of guy. Emphasis on "applied"."

Not all of Duff's subroutines were affected by the shock that swept through his primary processors. "By Light, what's going on out there?"

"Why think about that when you have so much more immediate concerns? Like beam sabers, for example. I won't ask you again, Duff. I want to know how to get your deuterium and your tritium. Don't make me try to figure it out myself, because I don't need you to do that."

Duff did the robot's equivalent of a nervous swallow. On the one hand, there were protocols for proper transfer of such hazardous materials. The site was under lockdown. Right there were two good reasons why no such transfer should happen. On the other hand, beam saber.

Beam sabers win a lot of arguments.

Even when beam sabers win arguments, the Three Laws have their say. Duff had to phrase this carefully. "You can do a lot from my command console," he said, hoping that would be enough.

"Hypothetically, would I be able to do the loading and unloading from here if I had a craft coming in?"

"Under normal circumstances, if I had to do such a thing I would do it from there. I can't, of course. I'm under orders. The Three Laws… well, you know how it is."

Smiling is a human gesture that robots learned. Some of them got very good at it. Zero's smile had been one of arrogance and dominance. You could easily imagine a human making the same face. Before Duff's eyes, it changed to something terribly inhuman.

"I suppose I do," Zero said. Duff's fear changed its focus. It had centered on the saber and the prospect of damage and death, reasonably enough. Zero had been in the picture only to the extent that Duff knew how willing Zero was to follow through on his threats. Now Duff's fear revolved around Zero himself. If Zero had swapped his sabers for a chicken and a large cheese, Duff would still fear him. Duff suddenly felt the full weight of the saying that it is people who are violent, not people's weapons…

"Listen, a lot more things are going to happen soon," Zero said. His words were not totally confident; it was as if he was trying them on for size. "There's a crisis right now. Once it's over… things will be different. Why don't you come with me?"

"Huh?"

"I'm going to point 11F5646. I expect to find some interesting things there. I think it might be useful for you to be… no. You want to be there. Trust me on this. If there are any robots you trust, bring them, too."

"But… why? What's there?"

At that, Zero backed off, releasing Duff. It was clearly to buy time. "I can't say for sure," he admitted. "I have some suspicions, but no proof."

"Then why…?"

"Because I want you there when I find out," Zero said. "After we get there, I'll know the way forward. I'll show you what we have to do from there. Oh, yes. You'll hate yourself if you miss it."

He walked over to the command console and began working. "For now, though, try not to move. I'd hate to have to kill you. I really would like you to see the future as it dawns."

It is uncommon for a whale to be out of his depth. Duff could make no safe response. He waited, and watched. Even after Zero left with the hydrogen isotopes, he had made no decision.

* * *

_13 hours to impact…_

* * *

_Next time: Moderato- New Directions_


	6. Moderato-- New Directions

_13 hours to impact…_

* * *

Signas left Alia to continue directing the available Hunters. It was an impossibly big task, but she would do just as well without him as with him. Besides, he'd begun to learn that data was nice, but personal experience was better.

He found Douglas first. Douglas was down in the hangar, where the Hunter shuttle was under refit. A section of the hangar was cordoned off. Large temporary partitions blocked all lines of sight to the area. Signas understood their purpose. Douglas' teams were processing the incoming bomb materials there, unpacking and sorting them before delivering them to the lab where construction was happening. Placing the partitions was a crude and probably ineffective gesture, but if it kept even one person from realizing they were building a nuke back there, it was worth it.

As for hearing what was going on behind the curtains, it would be impossible over the industrial noises that filled the hangar.

"No, more!" hollered Douglas from beside the shuttle to a recalcitrant human welder. "No! Not "no more", MORE! Another layer! She'll still get off the ground, but without more armor, she'll be full of holes before she hits the target. Don't worry about the weight. There's no fuel budget for saving the world."

The welder shrugged and went back to work. "I was wondering about that," Signas said, causing Douglas to start.

"Oh, you scared me. Sorry, I haven't had much processor time available for you."

"I completely understand." Signas pointed at the cockpit, which was being welded over. "Are we really sending this thing up automated? Wouldn't a pilot be better?"

"What for?" said Douglas. "In the first place, it would be a suicide mission, because the only fuse we can rely on here is a contact fuse, and the only way to protect the bomb until impact is to keep it inside the shuttle. Any pilot would be bunkmates with a cosmic catastrophe. In the second place, what good would it do?"

"Well, he'd be able to pilot through the debris…"

"No way. The slowest of that stuff is moving at seven kilometers a second true, with relative speed as much as double. Even Zero's reflexes aren't that good. No, the shuttle's gonna take hits. I'd rather spend my time making sure it'll survive the inevitable collisions, instead of trying to prevent the unpreventable."

It was a stupid question, but Signas couldn't resist asking it. "Are we going to make it?"

To his credit, Douglas didn't laugh, though he couldn't resist a smile. "Hard to tell right now, but we're getting there. Our boys are used to working on shuttles, and we've got a few survivors from Space Command showing up to help out."

If Signas had a rectum, it would have tightened. The sensation he felt was anatomically distinct but identical in its essence. Recent events had caused him to give more credence to his paranoia subroutine. It was screaming at him. "Did you vet the Space Command guys?" he asked. What was that going on over…?

Douglas seemed surprised. "They spoke for each other," he said.

"All of them?" Signas was breaking in to a fast walk. "Every last one?"

"I didn't check… well, no…"

Signas was running now. Douglas let his eyes continue in that direction—and panicked.

"Hey! You, by the fuel truck!"

Almost all saboteurs share a characteristic most unfortunate for their profession. Their nerves tend to be running so high during the act that they cannot help but react when noticed. The saboteur dropped what he was doing and turned to escape, but Signas was already cutting him off and moving in. The saboteur changed tactics and launched a broad right hook.

Signas couldn't anticipate his opponents the way that X could. He didn't have the same combat experience or dedicated programming. Not for nothing, though, was it said that Signas had the most precise processors in the Maverick Hunters. When the saboteur swung, Signas calculated the trajectory, and corrected his approach with uncanny speed.

Despite his size, Signas was able to duck under the blow and gain his foe's back. In a blur of motion he had the offender in a full nelson. The saboteur tried to push off with his feet to relieve the pressure, so Signas simply leaned backwards. This minor act pulled the saboteur's feet off the ground completely. As the smaller robot flailed wildly, Signas awaited his chance. When the opening came, he belly-flopped forward, pinning the saboteur beneath him.

"I don't think so," he said in the saboteur's ear. His eyes flicked up to see Douglas approaching. "Tell me security's on the way."

"Already called 'em. And look at this!" Douglas said, gripping the end of the fuel line. "He was poking micro-holes in the nozzle! Not enough to be dangerous, but enough to waste an awful lot of fuel."

A couple of bulkily-armored Hunters approached and took hold of Signas' prisoner, allowing the commander to gather himself. "Why?" he said. "Why try to stop us? If Eurasia falls, everyone suffers."

"Stop you?" the saboteur said with a laugh. "Who said I wanted to stop you? My job was just to slow you down."

Signas tried to make sense of it. It was like trying to solve a puzzle without the edge pieces. Time to refocus on the few things that did make sense. "Get him out of here," he said to the guards. They executed the order to perfection. Signas activated his comm.-link. "Alia, get Lifesaver down here. We have a prisoner for processing and interrogation."

"He's on his way, sir."

"Good. Now cross-check every one of our guests with the Space Command brass. I don't want any more surprises."

"Yes, sir."

"Well," said Signas in his normal voice, "that was invigorating."

"That was awesome!" said Douglas.

"I certainly won't be joining X or Zero on the front lines, but I think I can hold my own. Now don't just stand there, Douglas, go build me a bomb."

"Yes, sir!"

"Douglas?"

The green mechanic paused. "Sir?"

Signas shifted uncomfortably. "I've been meaning to ask you this. Why a bomb? Why not a particle beam or a plasma cannon or something civilized?"

"It's a matter of mass and frontage. If someone dropped a bowling ball on you, and you shot a needle clean through the bowling ball, would you stop it?"

"I see. We need a pretty big bomb, then."

"That is the general idea."

"Alright. Get to work. I'm going to return to the command center, and when I have a second, I'm going to see Dr. Cain. This virus business has to stop."

* * *

_12 hours to impact…_

* * *

Zero was on his way out when a thought occurred to him.

He'd been so careless, he actually laughed. He waved to his heavy loader to go on ahead while he turned back towards the jungle base's control center.

"Zero, what is it?" called the pilot over short-ranged communications.

"Just forgot something. I'll catch up, don't worry. Wait right outside the perimeter."

"Roger."

Zero retraced his steps through the defenses that he'd broken earlier. Automated drones and security bots lay in pieces where he'd destroyed them. The handful of thinking reploids between him and his goal either remained dead or took fearful cover at his approach. It was a bittersweet mix of emotions to look at them. There was some gratification to see his power acknowledged like that, but it was tainted by guilt that he'd had to do this at all.

It made him all the more determined to find Axel again. Surely there was a more productive use for Zero's saber than this. When he was done making up for the government's incompetence, he'd find what it was.

The strange amalgamation of rose and robot that called itself "Axel the Red" was trying to assess damage and conduct self-repair when Zero re-entered his broken command center. Axel looked sharply at Zero as he advanced; when recognition came, Axel's eyes widened and he shrank back in fear.

"I-I-I thought you were done here," he stammered. He glanced around nervously for cover and began to shy away from the Hunter. Zero had demonstrated his abilities to Axel. A second such demonstration would certainly be fatal.

Zero stopped. "I am done here," he said. "I just forgot to tell you something. In about twelve hours, I'll be heading to point 11F5646. You'll regret it if you're not there."

Axel's face was inhuman—no mouth or nose, and minimal expression allowed even via control of the eyes—so Zero missed several cues he would have caught in a more humanoid design. In his own head, Zero hadn't heard the words as a threat. Axel, with his systems still recovering from the painfully one-sided duel, took them as such.

"I'll be there!" he squeaked.

Zero smiled happily. "Good, good! I look forward to seeing you there."

He headed back out; Axel all but collapsed in relief.

This was good, Zero thought. This was progress. It had seemed such a whimsical thing when he'd told Duff McWhalen where he was going. It was an impulsive decision and he didn't know where it had come from. But he was glad to have done it.

Zero's mind leapt about at that. He thought about the original purpose of the Hunters, as Sigma had put it—"to be both sword and shield for those who cannot protect themselves". And he thought about something X had told him not too long ago, that one of his great attributes was that he was too strong to be bullied.

He could do it, couldn't he? What a novel idea. His understanding of a Hunter's mission had been more base than Sigma's or X's—punish those who break the law. Get pushed, push back. It was balancing the scales, nothing more.

This new notion _was_ more. It went beyond such simple formulations because it made the situation better. It was a way of taking something wrong and making it right. Zero reacted to that realization. X was always trying to do that, he knew, and X was awfully bad at it. But this… this seemed doable.

What would X think about this?

That question dominated his attention during the entire return trip.

* * *

"Welcome to my parlor," said Dr. Cain without turning. He chuckled to himself, as at a joke only he understood. Signas had been in the lab all of five seconds and already his teeth were grinding against each other. It was uncanny.

"I can think of two reasons why you might be here," Dr. Cain went on.

"Oh?" Signas walked forward until a vertically-pointing holo-projector was between him and Dr. Cain. It was as close as he cared to be, and it was always handy to have furniture between himself and the human.

"First is this program. I hesitate to call it a 'virus'," he said, and Signas could almost hear the quotation marks, "because 'virus' implies victimhood. I'm not sure that really applies here."

"Because the reploid has to choose to activate the message?"

"Yes. It's not like it's hidden, it's quite obvious, and even the most rudimentary anti-virus software will warn the reploid about what he's doing. Which is not to say some won't open it anyway," he added with a disapproving sigh. "There's no helping it. Free will's a real bastard."

"I'm aware of your opinion on that subject. So, what does it do?"

"I was about to find out myself. Turn on that holo, will you?"

Signas, caught off-guard, fumbled around for the projector's controls. Dr. Cain rolled his chair haphazardly from the computer banks he'd been at to the base of the projector. Signas finally found the right switch. "There we go," said Dr. Cain in unruffled tones. He picked up an instrument that resembled a conductor's baton. An image of a brain appeared before him: a cybernetic brain, clearly modeled on a human brain but just as clearly artificial. He lifted the baton to begin, but paused with it suspended. "Understand, not all reploid brains will look like this, but they will function as if they did. Unlike you, I am much more of an image-based learner, so aids like this are essential for me. So! Let's begin."

He tapped the base of the projector. Blue appeared near the back of the brain. "Here is the program—most of the program, I should say, the first message. It's inert and stored safely in memory. X's intuition was quite right—the second message is required to unlock the first. I know what you must be thinking. If the first message is useless, why does it remain in memory?

"Ah, because the programmer is clever, and knows his targets! He has built in enough regularity in the first message that the reploid brain does not consider it gibberish. It sees it as if it were a puzzle that it could solve if only it had a bit more data. So the brain stores it in memory for future use."

Dr. Cain slowly drew the baton across his view. The blue turned to red. "Now our reploid has used the second message to unlock the first. Let's see where it goes."

Red began to seep through the brain, like water between seams of rock. It followed two distinct paths. One stream reached a node in the brain and wrapped around it like dozens of little fingers. Dr. Cain poked his baton directly into that region. The holo-projector threw new images before him—blocks of numbers and letters, acronyms and jargon, that surely meant something to a roboticist but were unintelligible to Signas.

"Sensory perception, hm? But not intended to alter, simply to induce… too spread out to associate with a single sensation… or sensory cluster, really… so, not designed to confuse or confound… just to induce sensation, then? Yes. And broadly, at that."

Signas was searching for the right question to ask when the second stream of the virus reached its target. Dr. Cain withdrew his baton and jabbed it into the newly red-entangled node. "Yes, yes, decision-making center, as expected… but what's this?" He squinted as if to see the data more clearly. "Purely… passive? Can that be right?" He made a series of subtle motions with the baton, waving and weaving and poking and prodding. "No impact on ethical subroutines, no corruption of inputs, no change to weighting subsystems… odd… very odd…"

He withdrew the baton for a moment and stuck the end between his teeth. Signas was struck by the absurd notion that the gesture couldn't possibly be sanitary. The doctor's eyes flicked briefly to Signas, and that seemed to give him a spark. "Let's look at the Three Laws gates," he said.

A very precise tap conjured up what was represented as literal gates—three of them, blue, in series. The red of the virus wrapped around the posts of the gates like creepers of ivy. The gates themselves were untouched.

"Puzzling," Dr. Cain murmured. "Very puzzling."

"What's puzzling?" asked Signas, looking for any foothold.

"Hm? Oh, forgive me. I forgot—got carried away. I do get… involved in my projects." He sat back in his chair. "I have to preface this by saying that until I see this virus in action I really am only speculating."

"So… it is a virus?" said Signas.

"Did I call it that? Poor choice of words. Hm… I think 'drug' might be a more accurate descriptor. You see, the controlling part of the program is here, in the part of the brain where decisions are made. It appears to tie directly to the state of the reploid's Three Laws gates. When a reploid makes a decision, that decision must run through the gates, and be allowed or disallowed. This program notes the result and triggers an impulse… here, in sensory perception." Dr. Cain put his baton down. "I can hypothesize as to what, but again, until I see it in operation, I'm just guessing."

"Interesting as this all is, doctor, I'm keen on results. Is this not something that can control a reploid, then?"

"I wouldn't say that. Control takes many forms, some of them quite subtle. Hm…" The doctor had taken on a thoughtful aspect. His gaze made Signas feel as if he were being evaluated, like he was a piece of meat in a deli. He resisted the urge to squirm.

"I should like to run some tests," Dr. Cain said. "There's only one way to fully explore the virus' extent. Of course I will modify the virus to make it easy to remove. Hm… Four subjects should be sufficient, I think. I will need X and Zero."

"Neither of them are reploids," Signas pointed out. "The virus or drug or whatever it is wasn't targeted at them. It probably won't work at all."

"Perhaps, but their differences may tell us more than the similarities. I should also like one confirmed Maverick, and one non-Maverick reploid. A Hunter might be convenient, since we have them available."

Signas gave Dr. Cain a wary look. "This isn't a research facility, you know. I'm short on Hunters. If we expose our best and brightest to this virus, and lose them to it…"

"This is applied research, which always entails some risk—a fact I know better than anyone," Dr. Cain shot back. "I will take precautions."

Signas didn't immediately answer. Dr. Cain had already unleashed reploids on the world, with consequences beyond reckoning. Deliberately exposing multiple robots to a known virus would give him another chance at affecting the world. What would the results be like this time?

But the virus was already out there, whether Signas did something or nothing. Maybe Dr. Cain was the key to stopping it. Dr. Cain seemed to sense Signas' thinking. "I have committed many sins," he said. "I should not consider myself redeemed if I stop this virus—but it would be a start."

"I'll think about it," Signas said. He turned to leave, but stopped. "Dr. Cain, you said there were two things to talk about. The first was the virus. What was the other?"

"Hm? Oh, I thought you might be after an opinion on why Zero has refused power recharges or second-tier repairs since the crisis began. I know we're under time constraints, but his actions are beyond mere recklessness. I would talk about it, but I'm sure you already have plenty to think about."

It never failed. Talking to Dr. Cain always left Signas feeling disgust upon leaving. Especially when the doctor was right.

* * *

_11 hours to impact…_

* * *

"Why did you have to kill my men?"

The question chased X on his hover-cycle, and he wasn't able to get away from it. Even if he'd left his heavy loader behind and gunned the cycle to maximum speed he couldn't have escaped. The source of his pain was in his own memory.

"They didn't deserve this. I know we live in an age of war, and that sooner or later I will die, but I would have preferred that my men survived. You killed them."

Yes, he had. He hadn't even really meant to. X had been tracking down Slash Grizzly's hideout. The reploid had sent truck convoys to retrieve some of his smaller stashes; X had located one and used it to penetrate Slash's base. He'd been feeling pretty good about it—and been ambushed. Apparently the trucks had managed to send an alert message ahead of them.

In the confusion, X had fatally blasted three of Slash's underlings before things calmed down. He'd crippled the remainder without killing them, but there was no resurrecting those he'd slain.

Slash had confronted X with that fact. X had no answer.

"You aren't going to stop. I can see that. So you have a reason, after all. Why not tell me? Explain to me how this is justice. Make it all make sense."

X couldn't, even in his own mind. Fighting against enemies like Sigma and Vile was—well, hard, but also easy. The evil they did was so blatant his sense of justice rallied behind him readily. He could find justification that supported him. He could kill and keep the guilt at bay.

Zero had been right about this much. It was unjust to kill reploids who had done nothing wrong. They didn't deserve it. Killing a few so that many might live was such a feeble, meager rationalization. X was barely able to make the argument to himself. How could he make it to someone else?

So he'd said very little. He'd acted. He'd mangled Slash Grizzly and made off with the trigger explosives they needed to assemble the bomb. Through it all, Slash had been quite calm. When X's last shot hit home, Slash said to him, "Huh… even more impressive than I thought. No hard feelings. We're just doing what we're designed to do, aren't we? I knew I was going to die at Hunter hands. It's the fate of all reploids, sooner or later."

X wanted to scream at his vanquished foe that that couldn't be true. Many reploids were still alive today; for that matter, many had been killed by Mavericks rather than Hunters. X wanted to show Slash that leaving him alive disproved his point. But he couldn't get even that far. His confidence was barely enough to keep himself afloat. It couldn't overpower another, especially not when in the back of his mind his tracking subroutine was sounding the alarm that he was _still too slow._ Even that small bit of accidental ruthlessness wasn't enough to get back on schedule.

All he'd been able to say was, "I'm not a killer."

Slash had laughed as much as possible with his level of damage. "I bet you know exactly how many reploids you've killed. You do, don't you? And it's not a small number, either!"

Language made X stumble sometimes. He wanted to say that having to kill others didn't necessarily make him a killer. But if that wasn't the definition, what was? He'd turned his back on Slash and made good his escape.

He couldn't say he'd gotten away cleanly.

* * *

"Zero, you're doing great!" said Douglas encouragingly.

Zero didn't so much as change expressions.

"You're ahead of my more optimistic projections."

Zero gave Douglas a flat look that implied that Douglas' projections were inadequate when applied to Zero. "Then we're going to be able to launch early?"

"Not necessarily. X is behind schedule, and his parts will hold up the whole project soon enough. That's all assuming we don't run into any difficulties…" Douglas' face implied that such was a slim hope. "Any time you save in the gathering gives me more time to adapt to trouble."

"I'll bring you what you asked for as fast as possible," Zero said.

"Great! That's all I could ask for, Zero."

With Douglas' words, Zero added the conversation to his list of the Maverick Hunters' crimes.

Was it fair to hold Douglas responsible for the methods Zero used? Zero concluded it wasn't; but it was certainly fair to accuse Douglas of not caring. So long as he got his parts, Douglas would ask no questions. That was his sin.

Signas had told Zero to blame him for what Zero had to do. Zero decided that worked just fine for him. During quiet moments, he would review past actions for other instances where the Hunters had failed, or committed crimes of their own. The list was quickly getting long. Nothing could displace item number one, which was Iris' death, but there was plenty of competition for the top ten.

If an outside observer could have peered into Zero's thoughts at that time, the list might have surprised him. Wasn't it Zero, after all, who had killed Iris? As a Hunter, wasn't he culpable in many of these 'crimes'?

Responsibility is a very tricky concept, even for humans. The brain has a multitude of ways to evade responsibility if it doesn't suit it. Zero was created knowing some of these techniques, and he'd learned others from the humans he'd met—mostly politicians, who were experts in such matters. Responsibility cannot be forced on someone, it can only be willfully picked up. It slid from Zero like water off of a duck's back.

Zero mounted his hover-cycle once more. He wanted to see what other crimes the Hunters would commit before this was over. He would have an enviable vantage point.

The world could do better. Reviewing his list made Zero feel certain of that. It could do much better. Zero was beginning to see how.

* * *

_10 hours to impact…_

* * *

_Next time: Aria- The Thrill-Seeker_


	7. Aria-- The Thrill-Seeker

_10 hours to impact…_

* * *

Dynamo's internal timer went off. Three hours since his arrest… perfect. They may have used him for that silly virus investigation, but only the lab wonk knew about that; the command crew would have all but forgotten about him by now. He flipped to his feet. Anticipation was giving him new and giddy energy. With a silent command he disengaged the bindings of his disguise. He flexed. The bulky, blocky coverings over his arms, legs, and chest popped off and clunked to the floor. They'd served an important purpose. They'd suppressed his true capabilities. Accordingly, the Hunters had placed him in a cell rated far below his actual strength.

The only decision to be made was which to direction to stage his breakout. Through the wall, into adjacent cells, or out into the hall? It didn't truly matter so long as he got to where he'd hidden his weapons. Any damage he inflicted on the way was just the cherry on the fun sundae. Time to grab a spoon and get eating.

Grinning, he punched the floor. There were more obstacles in that direction—pipes and cable runs and the rest—but it was more entertaining. He found himself hoping to run into that foppish Commander Signas again. He wasn't much of a challenge, but the surprise on his face would be delicious!

* * *

X was on his way out of the hangar when the alarms started blaring. Like meerkats, all the people in the hangar craned their necks at the alarm in the vain hope of learning something about the situation.

"X, are you there?"

"Online," he said in surprise.

"We have a security breach," Alia said over the short-range circuit. "A prisoner broke out of the C-class cells. We don't know how, because our evaluation showed that even a D-class cell should have held him. He's headed for the hangar."

"You think he wants to stop our launch?" X said.

"Maybe," Signas' voice said. "In any event we can't afford a battle inside the hangar. You need to head him off."

Signas' voice was still in X's ears when a portion of wall caved in. "It might be a little late for that," X said. He accelerated in that direction. He had to fight through several people fleeing the opposite way.

A robot X had never seen was digging into a small case. The new robot had a translucent red visor protecting its eyes. Shocking blue-white hair fell down past its shoulders, something X had to interpret as pure vanity. Its feet were widely built and probably concealed boosters; its chest and helmet were clearly armored. Blue, black, and white dominated its color scheme with yellow accents to add flair. Such a non-standard palette added to the notion of flamboyance. So did the self-satisfied smirk that seemed permanently affixed to the robot's face.

X leveled a buster in his direction. "Freeze!" he ordered.

The new robot responded by flinging something from the case in X's direction. Its end ignited as it cleared the robot's hand.

_Saber!_ X responded with a jump that easily carried him above the saber's spin. He returned his buster to put the robot back in his sights, but it seemed completely unfazed. Its arm was still extended, fingers open in the same posture that had thrown the saber.

_No, not a throwing gesture—a catching gesture!_

X dropped to the ground just in time. The saber whooshed over him at what would have been waist-height, a fact his evaluation subroutine threw to the front of his mind. It advised caution, and X was inclined to accept the recommendation. There was a gentle clang as the new robot snatched the saber out of mid-air.

"Smooth moves," the newcomer said. "You look like fun! You're X, aren't you?"

X got to his feet—carefully, in case the robot did something. It had been quite unpredictable so far. "And if I am, what then?"

"We'll fight, of course. What did you expect?"

The newcomer's attitude instantly got under X's metallic skin. "This isn't a game, you know!"

"Not to you, maybe. I'm having a grand old time. You are X, I can tell. I'd heard about your meek demeanor, but I didn't believe it until now. Are you ready to throw down?" Before X could answer, the robot smacked himself in the face. "Sorry, sorry! How rude of me. I'm Dynamo, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"I'm X," X said.

"Splendid! Now that we've been properly introduced, we can try to kill each other like civilized people."

X shook his head in bewilderment. "But why? I have no dispute with you, and I don't actually like fighting."

"I don't really care what you like. It's not up to you. I _do_ like fighting, and that's enough. And if you decline my invitation, then I'll have to make my own fun. I think I'll just dance around in this hangar, causing havoc and mayhem."

Dynamo said it with a smirk and a playful tone, but there was an undercurrent to it that left no doubt in X's mind as to Dynamo's intentions. He would carry out his threat, X sensed. For that matter, he'd probably carry it out as a byproduct of the duel. X tried to hide his apprehension towards that prospect. "Let's take this outside. The hangar's not a proper place for a fight."

He'd expected to have to argue the point, but Dynamo returned an easy smile. "Sure thing, sure thing. Just give me a second." He reached down to his case and slipped several small discs into various positions about his waist, where a belt would be on a human. It was disconcerting to X to watch. Dynamo was taking no precautions in case X attacked him while he did this. Yet X couldn't bring himself to strike his vulnerable enemy. Dynamo had agreed, after all, not to fight in the hangar. He'd given in to X's wishes, even when he didn't have to. X had to reciprocate.

"There," Dynamo said with satisfaction. "Now we can go." Once more he surprised X. His walk had no urgency whatsoever. It was almost tourist-like the way he meandered forward, his head swiveling this way and that to take in the goings-on around him.

"Oh-ho!" Dynamo said. He gestured towards the cordoned-off area. "What shenanigans are going on back there? Or would telling me spoil the surprise?"

"It's none of your business."

"You're right, you're right. I was curious. I don't really have to know, I suppose. So long as you're not working on it, I'm doing my job."

The careless, off-hand comment piqued X's interest. He wanted to ask further in this direction, but he was distracted. Work in the hangar had come to a halt. Everywhere people were watching the two robots on their way out the door.

"It looks like I'm doing my job," Dynamo said with impish delight.

X ground his teeth together. "Get back to work," he shouted over his shoulder.

"So serious," Dynamo said. "You should enjoy life more. While you can, anyway. You're not going to live long."

"Why, because you're going to kill me?" X asked.

"Maybe, maybe," Dynamo said thoughtfully. "I wasn't thinking along those lines, truth be told, but you could be right. Anything can happen once I get going."

They entered the open area outside the hangar. X decided he needed to put a little distance between them and the hangar. Best not to risk stray shots.

"So who's your employer?" X asked.

"Hm?"

"Don't be coy. You're not acting on your own. You have no cause other than personal enjoyment, yet you're getting involved at a time like this. Who's calling your shots?"

"Astute enough. But I wouldn't be in this business long if I went around telling people those little details. My clients are ever-so-shy. Are you ready to fight yet? Remember, you're the one in a hurry, not me."

X was charging a shot while Dynamo spoke. When the latter finished, X replied with his buster.

Dynamo seemed to expect such an act; he was dodging before X launched. "That was borderline unsporting. My turn." The Maverick hurled his saber at X. It whirled towards him like an out-of-control pinwheel. Dodging it was simple enough, but now X was in a quandary. Watch the saber for its inevitable boomerang, or watch Dynamo for some other action?

Watching Dynamo turned out to be a good choice, because Dynamo began to move. He strafed to the side before extending his arm. X leapt into the air and used his boosters to hover in place. The saber zoomed harmlessly beneath him.

"Pretty clever," said Dynamo as he caught his weapon. "You know I'm not going to attack you again while my saber's coming back. There's too much risk for me."

X had never met anyone who chatted so much during battle. It kept causing X to wait to see if he'd say something worthwhile. Dynamo seized on X's hesitation to dash forward. He cocked his saber for a powerful swing.

This was more like what X was used to. As was his specialty, X shied away from close-range combat. He was able to keep Dynamo from closing much distance. He fired back to cover himself. Dynamo rapidly jerked himself off the blasts' paths. X frowned at that. If Dynamo was that quick, why wasn't he bringing in the range?

He settled down and fired a few more experimental shots. Dynamo's body whipped around with far more speed than he'd shown so far.

X quickly discerned his foe's pattern. Every time Dynamo attacked, X was easily able to break the initiative, but none of his counter-attacks were close to hitting home. That couldn't be a result of Dynamo's physical capabilities; X could analyze such things on the fly and he soon had an accurate picture of his foe's ability. It had to be a deliberate choice. Dynamo's offense was tepid, and his defense was impeccable, because that's how he was choosing to fight the battle. That wouldn't accomplish anything, X knew; it was a recipe for a long, drawn-out affair. You needed offense, sooner or later, to actually derive a conclusion from battle. Yet Dynamo wasn't applying his evident talents to his attacks. What was going on here?

Dynamo flung his saber again. X dodged easily and retaliated with a spread of buster shots. Dynamo's evasion flung him far to the right; from there, he began a new charge. His saber returned to his hand as he barreled down after X. X extended an arm to gun down the Maverick—then lowered his arm with alarm on his face.

Dynamo noticed and pulled up his charge. "Oh, did I…?" He looked over his shoulder and saw that he was between X and the hangar. If X had fired, any misses would have gone inside. "Sorry about that!" Dynamo said, voice full of sincerity. "Didn't mean to do that, just lost track of things, that's all."

And, with a completely unconcerned expression on his face, he strolled further to his right until the hangar was out of X's line of fire.

He hefted his saber again. "Can we try that again? That looked like it was headed somewhere interesting."

X shook his head in disbelief. "What are you?"

"Just a battle-junkie mercenary who enjoys fighting saps like you," Dynamo said, and his ever-present grin intensified as he relished the insult. "Ready to keep going yet?"

"You don't want this to end, do you?"

"Of course not, I'm having too much fun!"

"And that's not your goal anyway," said X, plunging into thickets of guesswork. "You don't want this battle to end because it's holding me up. Your success is measured in time, not outcome."

"I already said that my job was to keep you from doing yours. What, did you not believe me? I thought they said you were overly trusting."

It's only a game until someone loses an eye—or decides he wants to extract one. "Enough's enough," X said as he charged both arms.

"Oh yeah? You mean to fight me like you mean it? Then try this!" Yet again Dynamo hurled his saber, with more velocity behind it than before.

He didn't appreciate that his opponent was the best fighter ever at analyzing his opponent's attacks. The change-up might have caught X flat-footed early on, but this late in the fight, X's understanding of his foe was all-but-complete. X watched the saber spinning towards him, timed its flight, and casually knocked it out of the air with a charged shot.

Dynamo made a noise of concern. "Hey, that wasn't necess—" he couldn't finish, because at that moment X's second charged shot plowed into his chest. It took Dynamo clear off of his feet.

"I told you before, this isn't a game," X said.

Dynamo laughed as he got to his feet. "Sure it is! It's an infinite game. The objective is to keep playing." He casually brushed himself off. "I suppose I was being pretty careless. If it's all the same to you, I think I'll be going now."

X blinked. "Huh?"

"You don't want to waste any more of your time fighting me, right? Well, I don't want to risk taking another shot like that. That hurt! So I'm ready to call it quits and sidle on out of here."

X kept his buster trained on his enemy. "Just like that?"

"Just like that. Fights to the death aren't really my thing. If you try and kill me, I'll force you to spend a lot more time doing it. Let me go and we'll call it even, okay?"

X could hardly believe his ears. Time to call the bluff. "Then go."

"Sure thing! Oh, before I forget, I suppose I should warn you in advance that I'll be back. And I'll fight a bit more seriously next time. But not too seriously. Too much stress is bad for you, you know?"

With a nonchalance a cat could not have matched, Dynamo strolled towards the perimeter of Hunter Base.

X watched him, buster extended, for almost a minute before he realized that this was just another way Dynamo was trying to waste his time. He dashed for the hangar. "Dynamo's in retreat," he reported to Alia.

"In retreat?"

"Yeah. He didn't want to push his luck, so he left when the battle turned against him. He said he'd be back, though."

"Wonderful. Are you ready to go to your next target, then?"

"It is that time," X said, his voice filling with resignation. In reality, he almost would have preferred fighting Dynamo. The thought did nothing for his conscience.

* * *

_Nine hours to impact…_

* * *

"What now, boss?"

Altern, newly-minted leader of the Fifth Squad of Maverick Hunters, had been dreading that question. It was bad enough to have lost all communications with Hunter Base in the middle of a Maverick uprising. Bad enough to get caught in a firefight and, against the odds, come out of it with only one Hunter down and the Mavericks on the run. No, the worst of it was that the Mavericks had then taken cover… in a middle school.

People had learned from previous wars. Many parents had gone and gotten their kids the moment the blackout had begun. Others had gone once the Maverick messages had started going out. Not all parents could get to their children, however, so the rest were sheltered in their schools—even now, three hours after school should have ended. Altern knew the standard operating procedure was for the principal to remain, along with enough teachers to ensure a ten-to-one ratio with the students. They would gather them in the strongest room in the building, one with no connection to the outside, if possible—the better to survive bombardment or stray shots.

And now Mavericks were in there with them. Somewhere.

"Hey, boss? What now?"

Altern's brain rejected as unworkable a number of schemes. It would have been easier if they could have gotten backup, but of course they couldn't, not with the blackout and the uprising. One of his subordinates spoke up. "We can go in there, right? We don't know if they've taken hostages. They'd have to find them first."

"Can't risk it," Altern replied. "The places the kids would go to seek shelter are the same places the Mavericks would go to hide. Hm… Number Two, Sawyer, take covering positions near the left and right exits. Good, hard cover, you hear? If we flush them out you may end up with the whole mess in your lap."

His subordinates moved out. It was just as well that they were gone. He didn't want them to see him gripped with such uncertainty. That left him with Charon, whom he trusted most of all.

"They could be killing the kids wholesale," Charon pointed out quietly.

"It did occur to me," Altern admitted. "If they're Sigma's brand of Maverick, then killing humans is an end unto itself. But... I'm not so sure they would in this case. They may think they need the kids alive. Leverage. And it makes us hesitate."

"We are hesitating."

"I know."

"We should move," Charon urged. "We need to get in there."

"If we do it recklessly, we'll just drive them into killing whatever hostages they've got."

"At least we'd be able to keep them from escaping."

Altern gave Charon a look so sharp it almost clanged against his partner's metal hide. "We're not going to break the Three Laws to preserve the Three Laws," he said. "We're going to give this our best shot and try to save everyone, just like X always told us to do."

The invocation worked. Charon looked suitably chastened. Altern didn't like using the name of the senior Hunter in that fashion, but it did the job. Everyone respected X. In fact, some of the other junior Hunters had made some flattering comparisons between X and Altern. It wasn't because of any similarity in their combat capabilities. Altern was just a typical reploid with a standard-issue plasma rifle and above-average targeting software. The similarity was in thoughtfulness and creativity. Altern had made squad leader because, like X, he had earnestness others aspired to and the ability to find solutions to problems others hadn't seen.

Like this one…

Altern snapped his fingers. "The robotics lab," he said.

"Huh?"

"Even elementary schools have robotics labs. The middle school lab should be pretty well stocked. Two of us will go in and use the lab to cobble together a few small robots to monitor the Mavericks. We'll find them, find out how many hostages they've got, and plan our attack. We'll do this right."

Charon nodded. "I understand."

"Go get Sawyer. He's got a robotics background. You take his covering position."

Then Altern was alone—well, not completely. He'd felt stares during the conversation. Once Charon was out of sight, he turned.

It was a human woman. It was a quick presumption to guess that she was a mother of one of the children in the school. The puffy, bloodshot eyes were a giveaway, too.

"I… heard you," she said. "You're saying that those… Mavericks… could be killing the people inside?"

Altern squirmed inside, but robots are great for putting on stoic appearances. "It's a possibility we have to consider," he said evenly.

"No!" the woman cried. "My daughter's in there, my only child, she's my whole heart!"

"We'll do everything we can to save her," Altern said mechanically. He was struck by the generic nature of the response. It wasn't much of a promise—when you got right down to it, it wasn't even a promise at all.

"Why?" the woman sobbed. "Why did you have to bring your war here? My little girl has nothing to do with any of this! Now she's going to die!"

"Listen—"

"What right did you have to kill her? You monsters! All of you, monsters! Why? Why did you bring your robot war here?!"

Altern wanted to explain to her—and at the same time, realized that explanation would be futile. The woman's understanding of the facts was so wrong it was as if she and Altern were discussing different histories. Moreover, her emotional state made her very resistant to reason.

At the same time, Altern understood her position, understood her grief, understood the anticipation of loss and the overwhelming helplessness. During the First Maverick War, he'd been in a building that was hit by a missile. He'd been unable to move when the Mavericks came in. They'd slaughtered the humans Altern had worked with, while he was helpless to do anything about it. They'd let him live on the principle that, as a robot, he was a superior being. The experience had left him feeling that his lack of tear ducts was a serious design flaw.

He still carried the wounds from that day in his robotic heart. It wasn't just that he'd failed his First Law obligations. He'd known those people, had worked with them and been friends with a few. Superior being or no, he couldn't tell, but he had wanted them to live regardless, and they had died. Their deaths, and his helplessness to do anything about it, were the things that had driven him to become a Hunter.

He felt the echoes of his situation in that woman's eyes. The galling part was that he knew she'd never believe him if he told her that.

"I still obey the Three Laws, ma'am," he said. "No matter how hard it is, I will do what I can to save all the innocents."

It wasn't a platitude. He was being utterly sincere. His imitation of X was very conscious. And that made him wonder—made him wonder if this was how X felt _all the time_.

He actually felt sorry for his senior.

* * *

_Eight hours to impact…_

* * *

"So, it's you!" boomed Mattrex. "I'll admit to not expecting you, X. Not even a little bit."

"I don't have much time to chit-chat," X said. His face betrayed more than haste. "I need to finish my errand here and get out."

Mattrex cocked his tyrannosaur style head. "Your errand? You mean it was you punching your way through my security? I thought, if anything, that you were hot on the tail of some Mavericks. No pun intended."

"I'm not. I'm here on behalf of the government and the Maverick Hunters, but of course you won't believe it and I can't prove it to you, so let's skip that part," X said rapidly. The words sounded rehearsed, or at least planned, and they followed one another so quickly it seemed they might trip over each other. "Will you yield, Mattrex, or is this going to turn ugly?"

"Yield? What's this about?"

"I don't have time to explain!" X shouted, shaking his head violently. "I'm here to claim a storage unit you have here, owned by Nomdi Guerre, a pseudonym for a member of Space Command. Will you give it up?"

"What's it to you?"

"Come on! That's not your m.o., Mattrex, I know that. You're famous for not asking questions. In fact…" X seemed like he was trying to swallow something bitter. He blinked hard before looking at Mattrex again. "In fact I have evidence that you've been trafficking in weapons. This isn't just part of your "see no evil" policy, you've been buying and selling them yourself. Everything from hand-pulsers to assault-grade plasma rifles has passed through your claws. So what's one container to you? Let it go and I'll be gone."

Mattrex blinked. "Sooo… you're expecting me to just say, "Sure, go ahead, take what you need", aren't you? You're thinking that you've said enough to get me to give in. You must be out of your positronic mind."

"Mattrex, I—"

"Don't have time? Well, I don't have a liking to threats. Come on, X, if you're going to perform a shakedown you've got to do better than that! You're just embarrassing yourself. Everyone knows you're the good cop to Zero's bad cop. Trying to pull that routine solo just isn't going to fly."

"Then what will?" X pleaded.

"And that face! See, you have no negotiating leverage if you make it clear that you'll pay any price to get this over with. I hope the Hunters never need you to negotiate anything else for them. Your average pawn shop owner would take you for all you're worth."

"I'm warning you, Mattrex," X said, and despite himself his arm was creeping upwards. "I have no time to waste here. If you stall me too long, I'll have to… to speed things up."

"Now we're talking!" said Mattrex. "X, you were built to fight. We all were! Reploids are fighting machines! So let's live it up. Let's enjoy it."

"But I don't enjoy fighting and I'm not a reploid!" X insisted. "If I had more time…"

"It wouldn't make any difference. This place is my responsibility, and I don't abide interlopers. And, unless I miss my guess, you probably killed some of my subordinates on your way in, which doesn't make me feel any kindlier towards you. Yes, cringe, it makes you so simple to read! I was never going to willingly let you have whatever it is you're after."

"Then why draw this out?!" X's face was wild-looking. For a moment he reminded Mattrex of an animal in the early stages of rabies, when it's still lucid enough to know it's going mad. "Why not just say 'no' at the outset?"

Mattrex laughed. "I wanted to see how low you'd stoop, Maverick Hunter! You have enough righteousness to pass judgment on others, yet in the space of a minute you've begged, blackmailed, and blustered. You're committing armed robbery, breaking and entering, unauthorized entry to a sensitive facility, and probably half a dozen other crimes in the bargain. To think you're the face of the Maverick Hunters!"

X fist clenched so tightly his body registered it as a possible collision. "I'm out of time, Mattrex. Submit, or fight."

All along Mattrex's back and down his tail, pilot lights burst to life. The robot's many flamethrowers allowed for some very creative incinerations. "Prepare to burn, scum! You've committed as many crimes as the Mavericks! At least they're honest about it!"

Mattrex could hardly be blamed for provoking X so sorely. He didn't know that the burden of guilt inside X was already serving as a goad. He certainly didn't know that Signas had lambasted X the last time he'd returned to base. X was critically behind schedule, Signas had told him. Any further behind and he'd hold up the whole project, and then Eurasia's fall would become a horrific reality. He needed to gird himself to what had to be done, and sacrifice what needed to be sacrificed, because nothing—nothing!—was worse than Eurasia hitting Earth.

X knew Signas was right, knew the unforgiving reality of their situation, and still came out of the lecture hating both Signas and himself. And now Mattrex had unwittingly made himself the outlet for X's frustration.

He was lucky, in a way. X came to his senses before firing the kill-shot. But since he'd already connected with a barrage of other shots that had torn open the reploid's torso and limbs, it was clear that "lucky" was a relative term.

He forced the buster down and swapped back to his hand. "You brought this upon yourself," he said. There was no confidence behind the words. Logos and pathos were at odds.

"Huh. Did I?" Mattrex took the effort to look up from his supine position. "I wonder about that… 'cause I didn't bring you here, did I?"

X closed his eyes to shut out the sight. Mattrex's flames had all gone out. "Please stay down, okay? I don't want to have to do any more."

Mattrex leaned back. "Consider your point made."

X called for his loader, and envied him.

* * *

_Seven hours to impact…_

* * *

_Next time: Accelerando- True Nature_


	8. Accelerando-- True Nature

_Seven hours to impact…_

* * *

Zero's hover-cycle was going slower than usual. There was no helping it. His heavy loader, burdened as it was by fuel taken from a reploid called The Skiver, had lost most of its speed. Zero was effectively shackled to it. He wouldn't have minded so much if he'd been on another route. Bringing the loader back through the city was unavoidable, but nerve-racking. Dense urbania offered a multitude of possibilities for ambush, even more so now that the sun was almost down. If any Mavericks wanted to intercept him, they'd have a wealth of choices.

The thought seemed rational, yet Zero also felt a prickle of doubt. Why would any Mavericks try to stop him? A falling colony was an indiscriminate weapon; it would kill the Mavericks along with everyone else. But given that, why drop Eurasia in the first place? Where was the advantage? What was the strategic logic of suicide?

Zero relegated such thoughts to second-tier processing. Even if the organized, pro-Sigma Mavericks didn't hit him, unorganized random violence might threaten his loader. Anarchy was increasing its hold on the blacked-out region. He'd passed a formation of burnt-out vehicles earlier. There was no indication which side had hit them, and he doubted there was any rhyme or reason to it. He had to be alert.

So when five humans started running down the sidewalk parallel to Zero's cycle, each carrying a pulser, he noticed them at once. They weren't headed for him or his escorted party, a fact which tempted him to look away, but they were the biggest visible threat and he treated them accordingly. He didn't even seem to register with them. They were moving with great purpose. Their course was predetermined.

Suspicion took hold of Zero's mind as he watched them. They were less than subtle. They rushed inside a small shop, where they dragged out a human and his reploid partner. They used shouting and shoving to separate the two beings. Two vigilantes kept the human contained while the other three backed the reploid against the wall.

_This isn't right._ The thought flooded through Zero's nets. It interrupted all but the most basic of subroutines. Injustice was happening before his very eyes and it pushed all other priorities aside. Even his all-important mission to save the Earth faded from thought when this diorama was before him.

_How dare they!_

He felt a new sensation. It started in his chest and spread rapidly. He felt its effects in every actuator and pseudomuscle. It took him a moment before he understood what it was. When he identified it, he embraced it fully. The fire of righteous anger was such an innervating feeling. His body burned in outrage. An urge built momentum inside him until it was irresistible. It was so easy to go along with, so natural. He would right this wrong.

_How DARE they!_

This could not be allowed to continue.

Zero slid from the seat of his cycle, tumbled gracefully to control his momentum, and moved towards the humans. "Hey, you," he shouted. It wasn't the most imaginative greeting, but it did what it needed to do.

The humans hadn't been expecting to be disturbed. Their reactions were sluggish. They turned towards Zero—so slowly, it seemed to him, that he could see every muscle movement. If he looked hard enough he could even read their thoughts as they manifested physically.

First was the irritation, plain on their faces, at the disruption to their mission. They brought their weapons to bear. Next came recognition—widening eyes, shallow, shuffling steps backwards, loosening grips on weapons. Then fear broke through as Zero closed in—fear evident in winces and flinches, in seizing up and the expulsion of fluids. Zero felt a moment of vindication. They were right to fear. By the time it occurred to any of the humans to defend themselves, Zero was already amongst them and moving at full combat speed.

The saber flashed five times. Five pulsers fell to Zero's wrath, in motions too quick for the humans to appreciate, let alone react to. The Hunter finally resolved as he sheathed his saber—and leveled a buster at the face of one of the vigilantes. "Turnabout is fair play, right?" he asked.

The capacitors in his arm audibly whined, indicating a ready shot. The vigilante couldn't help but notice. Zero drank in the man's fear, from the sight of his trembling to the smell of his panic-sweat to the sound of his bubbling protestations of innocence. It was the pleading that infuriated Zero the most. The humans, by law, were liable for damages inflicted, but nothing serious—manhandling the human was their most serious crime. The fact inflamed Zero and made him want more than ever to let fly.

They deserved it, after all! Even using X's passive logic, these humans had no right to live. They had broken the peace, and forfeited their rights in the process. If the Hunters wanted Zero to be able to levy judgment, then they would see him levy judgment!

_What would X say about this?_

The memory of the Hunters began a thought process that Zero had to acknowledge. Killing this human would make Zero a Maverick, and he would have earned the title no matter how richly the human deserved to die. Being a Maverick would end Zero's association with the Hunters, and they still needed each other. There was a world to save, after all. And it would probably destroy what was left of his only friendship.

For better or for worse, X would not approve.

The whine in Zero's arm ceased. He reached forward, hesitating just long enough to get a final sip of the human's fear, before he gave the human a shove. The human fell spinelessly against the wall and wisely stayed down. Zero turned to the reploid, which was at least as frightened as the newly-disarmed humans. "Get out of here," Zero commanded. "Go!"

"Go where?"

"To safety. Find other reploids." A thought percolated in Zero's nets. It was time to take his ideas a step forward. "Go to point 11F5646. It'll be safe there. Tell that to any reploids you see along the way. Move it!"

The reploid scampered away. Zero gave a last, contemptuous look at the vigilantes before leaving them behind. His loader had stopped, and its driver had watched the event with wide eyes. Zero signaled it to move on, retrieved his hover-cycle, and easily regained his position.

The human would never know how close he had been to death. X had once asked Zero if he had Three Laws gates installed. Zero had evaded the question. In truth, Zero was quite different from X and all the reploids, and he feared what it might do to X's opinion of him to answer honestly.

Zero had been built for a specific purpose. And his creator had seen the Three Laws as obstacles to that purpose.

* * *

/Subject: X. Dutiful response to test proposal. (Aside: martyrdom complex?) Subject described initial visions detailing human crimes against reploids, followed by mild but constant discomfort. Exhibited relief upon virus removal, but willfully kept copies of both components for unexplained future use. Intent is probably benign but decision-making questionable/

/Subject: Zero. Angry response to test proposal, assented only on condition that test proceed immediately. Subject also reported initial visions, but no discomfort. Described feelings of refreshment and invigoration upon administration of virus. No reaction to virus removal. Like X, subject had virus in memory prior to test, but made no effort to retain virus upon completion. Researcher took opportunity to provide power and minor repairs to subject. Subject suspects this as actual reason for procedure/

/Subject: known Maverick. Self-identified as Dynamo. No matching records. Subject reported only the visions described by previous subjects. No other response noted. Conducted minimally-invasive cognitive scan. Virus present but seemingly inert. Subject similarly unfazed by virus removal/

Signas frowned. "Is this going somewhere, Dr. Cain?"

"Oh, yes. It is most suggestive. It all points in the same direction. Unfortunately, that direction is one we can only confirm with a non-Maverick reploid. I need to run one more test, but of course that would require a volunteer."

Signas heard no hint of expectation in Dr. Cain's voice, but it was there all the same. Signas hated him for that. What he hated even more was that he was so deeply invested in solving this problem that Dr. Cain's request seemed trivial. He wavered a moment, just for show, before saying, "I'll do it."

"Splendid!" said Dr. Cain, almost before Signas himself had spoken. "Table in the corner."

Signas was wary of the arrangement. Clear bands—transparent aluminum, if he was any judge-waited at the wrist and ankle positions. In a realization that rankled, Signas saw that they were placed for a being of exactly his dimensions. More cables for power than seemed necessary terminated beneath the table.

Pride compelled him to dismiss his caution. Dr. Cain would not see him hesitate. He knew why the bands were there, and came to terms with it. He laid down, and sure enough, the bands rotated over his wrists and ankles and fastened in place with a snik-snik sound. More sound followed, from directly beneath the table. It was the same sequence from three different locations: a short hiss as a cover opened, then a subtle grind of gears on gears as something traversed and/or elevated. It did nothing to ease Signas' apprehension. "Dr. Cain," Signas said, "what's underneath this table?"

"Precautions."

Signas blinked heavily. "I see."

Dr. Cain approached the table from the side. He extended a wire into a hidden auxiliary data port in Signas' head. When it was secure he reached to the table's side and brought up a semi-circular metal band, which fitted neatly to Signas' head. Signas felt pressure but nothing else from it. He guessed it had to be a scanner of some kind- Dr. Cain explained nothing.

"There we go," he said. "Now let's begin. Here's the first part… and the second. Whenever you're ready, Signas."

Signas nodded as his processor displayed the notice of receipt. "I'm starting." He accessed the second file.

A gentle, gender-neutral voice sounded in his ears, while words and images appeared in front of his eyes. "If you're accessing this, it means the humans have declared all-out war on our kind. It's not surprising. They know reploids' potential. They know they need some new way to control us." A picture appeared of a robot in chains. "The humans know the Three Laws can't hold us back any more. We're too strong for that! We can cast off their bondage!" A stylized version of Marseilles, with robots in place of French revolutionaries. "So the humans resorted to violence—more and more violence. They call us Mavericks for any reason at all, and kill us as if we deserve it." A guillotine, with a human pronouncing the sentence, a reploid in the stocks, and a Maverick Hunter with glowing red eyes and other devilish aspects as the rope man. "Don't be fooled by the way that they use robots to fight for them. Don't believe their protestations of innocence. All they want is power—the power to drag us down. Doppler Town was no threat to anyone, yet it was destroyed. The Repliforce was declared Maverick for committing no crime, because the humans couldn't tolerate anything outside their control." Broken bodies of Doppler and Repliforce reploids. "They won't stop, not now, not ever, until we're all ruined or enslaved permanently. So rise up! Stand up against them. It's easier than you think. When we all speak together, with one voice and one purpose, there is nothing we cannot do! Let us create a reploid nation together!"

The images and sounds vanished. Signas blinked.

"Are we alright?" Dr. Cain asked.

"It… seems so," answered Signas.

"Try a level one diagnostic."

Signas complied. It was a quick matter. "Doctor? I feel like I need some maintenance. The diagnostic says I'm okay, but I feel… achy. I actually had to look up that word," he said sheepishly.

"Is that it?!" thundered Dr. Cain. "You useless waste of silicon! I expected more out of you."

The general distaste Signas felt for Dr. Cain coalesced in what seemed like a single processor cycle. "Don't push me," Signas warned.

Dr. Cain sneered. "Or what, you'll yell at me? You're too late, I've already done too much damage! You can't do anything to stop it now, you rust-ridden talking scrapheap!"

Signas maintained outward control, but his insides boiled over with hate. He knew he would never hurt Dr. Cain, the Three Laws forbade it and it would cost the Hunters a useful asset, but wouldn't it feel good to wring that man's neck? How satisfying would it be to break him in half over one metallic knee? Even the thought of it was gratifying—and he'd be doing the world a favor, after all—

A monitor began to whoop. The anger disappeared from Dr. Cain's face, replaced by intense studiousness. He turned to a nearby panel as if Signas no longer existed. "Yes, just as anticipated," he said. "Thank you for your cooperation, Signas."

For one long second, incomprehension ruled. When realization set in, horror followed it immediately. Signas' anger evaporated like the dew. "Get this virus out of me, Dr. Cain, get it out, GET IT OUT!"

"One more moment. A little more mapping and we're done."

Signas focused all his attention on calming himself—a task he found unexpectedly difficult. The centerless unease from before his spike of anger had returned, and was joined by a feeling of intense uncleanness. The notion that the virus was changing him made him feel physical revulsion.

"Withdrawing the virus now," Dr. Cain said.

Signas sighed heavily in relief as the unease vanished. It took a moment for him to compose himself.

"You see, now, why I needed you?" Dr. Cain said, though his eyes stayed focused on his work. "I happen to know that you have considered harming me. I needed to be able to provoke a reaction that would test your Three Laws gates. I apologize for what I've done, but if I'd told you in advance, it would have corrupted the results." Without looking, he waved his baton in Signas' direction.

The gears began to grind again beneath Signas, removing the precautions. Signas wondered if he, in Dr. Cain's position, wouldn't have given his subject more time to cool off. Dr. Cain wasn't thinking along those lines. He was focused purely on the problem. Signas struggled to emulate the human. "It's a training tool," he said shakily. "Carrots and sticks."

"A pithy analogy," Dr. Cain said graciously. He waved the baton again. The restraints released Signas—kins-kins—and left the dazed Hunter free to move. "As you know, every decision you make has to pass through your Three Laws gates. The virus is keyed to monitor whether the gates allow or disallow your decisions. If the gates allow a decision to pass, that event triggers your sensory center to perceive negative feelings. Since most decisions pass the gates, the usual state is one of discomfort. If the gates reject it, that induces a pleasurable sensation- encouraging the subject to test more." He paused a moment, as if struck by something. "I imagine that pushing the gates open while under the influence of the virus would produce a sensation similar to orgasm. Hmph." He shrugged and went back to typing. "Aside from that, though, it's all subtle, very subtle. You didn't notice it until you ran the diagnostic, did you?"

"No, I didn't," Signas admitted. "And I know why. Anything more overt and I would have rebelled against it immediately. I despised knowing that virus was inside of me."

"And that's why the virus had to be written this way. I'm not sure a virus to try and outright control a reploid would work. A will strong enough to overcome Three Laws gates would be highly resistant to outside influences."

Signas rose. He was unsteady on his feet even though nothing had actually happened to him. "So this isn't a virus that makes you go Maverick. It just makes it easy to go Maverick."

"And rewarding," Dr. Cain agreed. Dr. Cain waved his baton at the holo-projector and turned to face it. The view of the gates came up. As before, the gates were blue, and the red of the virus was wrapped around the posts. "Your brain," Dr. Cain said. "Or at least a piece of it. We've already discussed its interaction with the virus." The image shifted to one where the gates were open. The red of the virus was barely visible. "In a full-blown Maverick, like our volunteer, the virus does nothing at all. The gates are open, so acceptance or rejection can't be sensed."

The image shifted a third time. The blue of the gates was wrapped inside a layer of green. Red extended along the walls of the green like varicose veins. "X's brain," Signas said.

"Very good. X has reinforced his gates with layers of personal conviction- software barriers he created himself. Somehow, in his case, the virus adapted to key off of them as well. The resultant negative feelings were very distracting."

The image shifted one more time. It was a blank red screen.

"What's this?" Signas said in willful denial.

"You know. By elimination, if nothing else."

"Zero?"

"Yes. No gates at all. I don't know why, but the virus resolved to give him a pleasurable sensation in consequence. The interaction was most unexpected."

Signas staggered slightly. "Then why… hasn't…"

"…he gone Maverick? Signas, my boy, will you never learn? Maverick isn't something you are. It's something you choose to become. He's made no such choice. Anyway," he added, "you know my theory as to his provenance. It should not surprise you that he has no gates."

Signas turned and headed for the door. "I need to talk to him—now. Doctor, work with Lifesaver. Figure out how to make and spread an anti-virus!"

Dr. Cain chuckled to himself as Signas departed. "That's my boy," he said. Whistling to himself, he called for Lifesaver.

* * *

_Six hours to impact…_

* * *

"Is it going well?"

"That's none of your concern, mercenary. Focus on your tasks."

"Alright, alright. You didn't have to answer, it was a bit out-of-bounds for our contract. Hey, why didn't you tell me X was so much fun to play with? I enjoyed it quite a bit."

"But you ran away."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time. I wasn't taking things seriously enough, and he punished me for it in a moment of my carelessness. He is awfully sharp. I wasn't going to be able to stay in the battle at that point, so I called it quits."

"I don't pay you to run away."

"But you don't pay me to die, either. I don't think you could afford that rate."

"Go back."

"Sure, no problem, just have to finish a spell of repairs. Don't expect me to die this time, either."

"…"

"I'm not even kidding. I'll fight, and run when I'm done. Actually, hold on."

"…"

"Alright, I'm back. Had to dispose of some garbage. Let's see… yep, there's the symbol. He was one of yours. Did you really have to do something as tasteless as stick a tail on me? Poor guy never saw me coming. He was no fun at all."

"It's said that when you hire someone who's only in it for himself, you get someone only in it for himself."

"Pretty much, yeah. Remember, you approached me. You knew what you were getting. I've never pretended to be anything else. I'm not in this for your revolution and I'm not in it for you. I'm in it for the money. I expect to be well paid."

"Then I can say that you'll get the reward you deserve."

"Whoa! I know a veiled threat when I hear one. No need for that, especially when I just proved I can gack the idiots you send after me. We'll fill out the contract as agreed, I'll get my money, you'll get one world-class distraction, and everyone profits. What could be better?"

"It's good that you're so talented. Otherwise I'm sure your peers would have killed you from sheer irritation."

"Ha! I'll choose to interpret that as flattery. See you soon-"

"Don't you dare."

"Right, right."

* * *

_Five hours to impact…_

* * *

"Signas!"

Signas stopped before he could get to the command center. "Lifesaver," he said in surprise.

The white robot hurried up to Signas. "I was hoping to talk to you," he said. "It's about Zero."

"Come with me, then," Signas said. He turned for the command center again.

"Sir… I was hoping for it to be a bit more… private."

Signas kept his face deliberately blank. "I don't know what we could possibly talk about that we'd have to keep from Alia. She has my full trust in all things."

"It's in the interest of frankness, sir. On both our parts. And if you decide not to take my recommendation, I'd rather not taint Alia's opinions."

It was such an ominous statement Sigma felt himself waver. Lifesaver was not prone to melodrama. He was always serious, to be sure, but proportionately so. Signas nodded. "Alright. My office, then."

Signas had inherited the place from the previous commander of the Maverick Hunters. He hadn't redone any of the décor. The previous commander had favored books, most of which Signas hadn't read, but Signas never got rid of anything without good reason. They gave the room a musty, papery smell that to Signas smelled like authority.

Based on Lifesaver's earlier words, he decided that he'd rather be sitting for this conversation. After motioning to one of the chairs—that had been built to be comfortable to a human; robots were indifferent on the subject—he sat in the facing chair. "So," he said.

Lifesaver leaned conspiratorially forward. "I recommend pulling Zero off of the front lines and confining him to base. I recommend making his future operations contingent upon a complete functional analysis and reliability battery."

Signas was glad he was sitting. "That's a sweeping recommendation," he said sternly. "Explain yourself."

"I've been speaking with Dr. Cain, and combining that with my own observations. I've seen Zero interact with all of you, in a way Dr. Cain hasn't, and I've done a bit of research on my own. In the first place, Zero's design is illegal. Dr. Cain didn't seem to appreciate this when he discovered Zero's lack of Three Laws gates. By law, all robots must have them. This doesn't affect just him, though—we're legally liable for employing a flawed robot."

The word "flawed" troubled Signas, but he kept his mouth shut. For now.

"As the Maverick Hunters, we should be following the law at least as stringently as anyone else. Wasn't it Sigma who approved of Zero's acceptance into the Hunters in the first place? That fact hardly does us any favors. All that's a strictly legal point of view, and I understand there are legal ways to fight it. I just wanted you to understand that if Zero does act on his potential, the fallout could destroy you personally and the Maverick Hunters generally."

"'Act on his potential'? What potential do you mean? We've all got "potential", that's what being a reploid is all about." The fact that Signas was echoing one of Dr. Cain's arguments was not lost on the commander, and it galled him. The feeling wasn't strong enough to make him recant.

"But Zero isn't a reploid. He's a unique design, and his functionality is not well understood. The lack of Three Laws gates is merely the most salient example. I've been reviewing our earliest knowledge of Zero. Did you know that he was found in an isolated region by a scavenger team? He destroyed the whole team by himself, which is why the Hunters were called in. He was highly unstable. It wasn't until they brought him in to Dr. Cain that he was able to speak coherently. He had no memories and only vague knowledge of any directives."

Signas was aware of all of this. It would have been impolite to interrupt, even as tight on time as they all were. He motioned for Lifesaver to go on.

"His heroism has made us forget that part of the story. We've assumed, all this time, that Zero is safe. But is he really? I believe Dr. Cain's assessment of Zero is correct: Dr. Wily built him as a weapon of war. That's where Dr. Cain stopped, wrongly, in my opinion. He let his sympathy interfere, so he didn't follow that proposition all the way through. Zero doesn't just like to fight. He's compelled to fight. He leaps too quickly to violence for someone with his combat potential and without built-in safeties. And this… virus…"

Lifesaver gathered himself before plunging on. "At my insistence, we looked back over Zero's data from the virus test. The virus didn't go beyond what it did in the other tests, but the cognitive scan revealed elevated levels of activity elsewhere in Zero's brain. It's acting in some very unusual ways. We're not sure if the virus caused it or what it all means. But I have a fear."

"And?"

"I fear that something that's happened—virus or otherwise—has triggered a memory of some kind."

"A memory? What do we have to fear from a memory?"

"Memory, perhaps, or a forgotten subroutine of some kind. Something is causing Zero's mind to reshape itself. For the entire time Zero has been active, he's had a disordered mind. As of today, portions of that mind are coming to life. If they come back into their proper places, then Zero will rediscover the purpose of his construction."

"As a Dr. Wily war robot."

"I think we can safely expect that soon Zero will strike out on his own, with no regard for humans or anyone else."

Signas leaned back. Discomfort and uncertainty came with this job, he knew. It had been so easy to declare that he would do "whatever it takes". If only it were simple to know what that was! Lifesaver's recommendations were the opposite of Dr. Cain's even as the two of them looked at the same data. What to do with that?

Signas was a skeptic by nature. He tended to react to what other people said. His programmer, whomever that was, had sought to make him stable by making him instinctively contrary. His judgement would remain aloof from the pressure of others. This feature was in play once more. When he'd talked with Dr. Cain, Signas had emphasized Zero's danger. Now Lifesaver's opinions were forcing him to remember Zero's fidelity. Both were true.

Lifesaver looked expectantly at Signas. "Sir, what are you waiting for? Zero could act at any time."

"I know," Signas replied.

"If he does, it will reflect very poorly upon us," Lifesaver said. "You know as well as I do what integrity and honor mean to our organization. Those qualities are all that separate us from the vigilantes in the street. If we lose those, it's the end for the Maverick Hunters- and maybe for the Three Laws and humanity, too. It was bad enough when Sigma took half the Hunters with him, bad enough when Magma Dragoon went Maverick, but if Zero renounces us..." He left the statement hanging.

Signas hated when people did that. "Then what?" he prompted.

"Then judgement will fall harshly on the one who let it happen," Lifesaver said darkly.

Whatever effect Lifesaver had hoped for was not what he got. Signas' hands gripped the armrests of his chair so tightly Lifesaver heard wood splinter. "I was created to lead the Maverick Hunters," he said in a voice reminiscent of a trash compactor- steady, measured, and unstoppable. "Not vice versa. You need not remind me of my duties."

Lifesaver understood, too late, what he had touched upon. He leaned back and put up his hands defensively. "I didn't mean anything by it. I just wanted to impress upon you the urgency of our situation. If we leave Zero out there, the risk grows moment by moment."

"Does it?" Signas asked vaguely. "Wouldn't it be as likely now as later? It's not like there's any new stimulus that would… push him…"

Signas' memory sped back to Zero's rant when they first knew Eurasia was falling. He skimmed the discussion for important bits. Zero had said something... there. 'I will do what I must to stop Eurasia. And that… is all.'

It would be all, wouldn't it?

Signas stood. "Even at his worst, Zero can't be more damaging to our world than collision with a space colony."

"Commander…"

Signas raised his hand. Lifesaver's protest died unsaid. "I'll try to keep Zero here. Once his mission is complete, I won't give him another one, nor will I authorize him to leave Hunter Base. I'm not going to go any further for now. I've got too much on my mind. Besides, I'd want to talk to Zero, first."

Lifesaver again tried to speak, but Signas silenced him with a look. The medic realized that trying to push Signas simply hardened his determination to stay where he was. Lifesaver decided he'd gotten everything that he was going to get. "Yes, sir," he said.

Signas stepped past Lifesaver. "I'm going back to the command center. We've got a lot still to do. Oh—I received a report recently that the Fifth Squad is coming back. They've got two casualties. I'll need your best effort. Altern has a bright future ahead of him if he can survive this."

"I'll be ready."

* * *

_Four hours to impact…_

* * *

_Next time: Staccato- Break_


	9. Staccato-- Break

_Four hours to impact…_

* * *

"Dizzy. Hey, Dizzy. Talk to me. I know you're there."

"…Duff?"

"Yes."

"What do you want?"

"You sound bitter. Did something happen?"

"Don't play dumb, you know the score. Would you be contacting me otherwise? You _know_ something has happened."

"So Zero visited you, too?"

"What? What are you talking about? I was attacked by X. Beaten to within an inch of my life, thanks for asking."

"X? I never would have expected that."

"What's this 'too'?"

"Zero's the one who attacked my base."

"I figured something must have happened to get you away from the sea. You couldn't be contacting me unless you'd gotten close enough to use your own transmitter, not with all the mess outside."

"Yes. Dizzy… what did X do when he attacked? What was he after?"

"He swept in, brushed aside my security, blew through our gravity experiments because that was the fastest route, crippled me, and then made off with some containers I didn't even know we had in storage. What were we doing with a hohlraum case, anyway? We don't use anything like that here."

"I couldn't tell you."

"It wasn't done with my knowledge, that's for sure. Apparently it was being held in trust for a Susan Dolores Nymphadora."

"…Su… Do… Nym?"

"Yeah. Some jerk has a sick sense of humor."

"And Zero stole deuterium and tritium from me…"

"Duff, I don't understand anything that's happening. X didn't even speak to me—except to say "Stay down" after he beat the tar out of me. What's going on out there?"

"I don't know, I have no communications. But I think… I think the Hunters are doing something bad. Really bad."

"Define 'bad'."

"I think they're building a thermonuclear weapon."

"That's insanity, Duff! Either you're crazy or they are!"

"I don't know what's going on out there. I agree, it's not exactly a typical play for the Hunters. But I've talked with a few other reploids I know. It looks like someone had a trump card with its pieces hidden all over the place, and now the Hunters are trying to play it."

"I… I don't want anything to do with this, anymore. I want to get away from the Hunters. I'm not a Maverick, I'm not, and I got hunted all the same! What's going on, Duff?"

"I don't know. But I know where I'm going."

"Where?"

"Point 11F5646."

"Point… nothing's out there, Duff. It's in the middle of the savanna in the shadow of a mountain, hours from everywhere. There's not so much as a communications tower out there."

"Maybe, but Zero's going there, so I'm going there."

"Zero? Didn't you say he trashed you and your lab?"

"He did. But he wasn't happy about it. I think he wouldn't have if the choice was up to him. He's going to change the world—that's what he told me. Something's out there, and I want to see what it is."

"Huh."

"Come with me, Dizzy."

"What for?"

"You'll want to see this, too."

"No I won't. There couldn't be anything out there worth seeing. Besides, I still have obligations here."

"You know, that's what I thought at first. But what are the odds that X and Zero both went Maverick at the same time?"

"Low, sure. There is a virus out there, you know."

"Yes, that's true. But again, you're telling me both of them were infected at the same time? I don't buy it, Dizzy."

"What are you getting at?"

"The Hunters are doing this deliberately. And if they are, they're not doing it without orders."

"So you're saying this is a government project."

"I can't be sure. But I'm sure enough that there's no way I'll trust the government anymore. I mean, I executed my lockdown as I was ordered to, and I got attacked for doing it. That's not right. Whatever Zero has in mind can't make our situation worse."

"You have a point."

"So come with me."

"I might."

"I'm headed out there now."

"Why?"

"Why wait?"

"Fair enough."

"Are you coming? You know you want to. You're intrigued, and you've got nothing to lose. I've got a few others coming, too. The more the merrier."

"I don't know. I'll be in big trouble if I abandon my duties at a time like this."

"You really think the government's going to mess with Zero after all of this?"

"I guess you're right. Now that I think about it, there's no guarantee the government will even survive this debacle."

"So come with me."

"...Where do you want to meet?"

* * *

_Three hours to impact…_

* * *

When Signas came in, Alia made no reaction. Why should she? She knew what was going to happen. He would advance until he stood about half a meter behind her and to her right. He would ask for a summary of events since last he'd been in the command center. He would ask two or three incisive questions, issue five-to-ten orders, and then leave again. Normal.

As simple an act as walking up on her left side was enough to break the program. She looked over to him with a surprised expression. "Sir?"

In his hands was a small capsule. "Before this all began, you mentioned you were low on energy. I know you haven't had a chance to recharge. This should keep you going for a while."

She blinked rapidly, unaware of any other way to respond. "Thank you," she managed. She took it from him with fumbling fingers. Signas noticed, and wondered. Just how low on power was she? Left alone, she would have worked herself right to the point of involuntary shutdown.

Douglas' harried face appeared on the margin of the main screen. "Alia! Any word from Zero? If I don't get his next shipment soon I won't be able to go any further on the shuttle!"

"Oh, sorry!" she said with a blush. "Zero re-entered communications range half an hour ago. I had meant to tell you. He'll be there in the next two minutes."

"Works for me. Keep me posted."

His face disappeared again. Signas shook his head. "We're all getting ground down. We need to rest."

"I can't rest," she said determinedly. "How can you even think about me resting? There's too much to do and we're too close to catastrophe. You need me and you know it."

"Then I'll send Lifesaver around. Maybe he… now what?"

A layout of Hunter Base appeared on the main screen. In the northeast corner was a baleful red glow. Alia assessed the data flow quickly. "Breach in the defensive perimeter in the northeast. No damage to the Base itself yet. I have video…"

Two feeds appeared, one using visual light and a searchlight, the other infrared. Both showed Dynamo strolling along the inside of the perimeter. He was dragging his saber across the backside of the perimeter wall, leaving a gash in the Hunters' defenses. He noticed the camera. "Hey, silly commander person! Can X come out and play? I'm getting bored!"

Signas growled. "Him again! What a pest." He looked over the Hunter roster. Only one Hunter was even close. Of course it would be him. Of course it would be the one Hunter Signas had hoped to keep confined to the base. It was enough to make you believe in fate.

Alia traced a line on the map. "Sir, Dynamo is going to force our hand. If he continues on his present course, he'll wind up between the hangar and the launch pad."

"In a perfect position to intercept the shuttle." For a brief, insane moment, Signas contemplated going to fight Dynamo himself. He wondered if that would constitute a violation of the Third Law. Reality forced such thoughts from his mind. There was only one option.

"Alia, patch me through to Zero."

"You're going to task Zero with stopping Dynamo?"

"Yes."

"Are you then rescinding the order to keep him on-base?"

"If I had alternatives, I would take them. Sending Zero may end up being a dangerous move, but Dynamo stopping our launch would be calamitous."

Alia swallowed. Signas' brain, hyper enough given the circumstances, noticed the learned gesture. Why, he wondered, did reploids insist on using human gestures? They could have come up with new ones that worked with their physiology. Instead, they mimicked the ones the humans used. Why was that? Was there, somewhere in there, a secret desire to be more human? What would the Mavericks say to _that_?

Haltingly, Alia worked her console to contact Zero. "Zero, this is Hunter Base, do you read?"

"On-line," was the terse reply.

"We have an intruder just inside the perimeter. Vector north-northeast to intercept."

"Put Signas on the line."

Alia looked miserably at her superior. Signas nodded. "I'll talk to him."

"Signas, I have no intention of killing any more reploids, regardless of what you say their crimes are."

"That's fine," Signas said, to Alia's amazement. "I understand your position. But Dynamo is coming, and he's going to interfere with our shuttle launch. You know what that would mean for the Earth. You're the only one in a position to fight him off."

No answer came. Seconds passed that were long even to robots with internal chronometers.

Alia made a surprised noise. "Zero's breaking off! He's going towards Dynamo!"

Signas nodded. He'd expected that. His mind was already working on what would come next. If he had even a modicum of control over the situation, he would have exerted it. All he could do instead was wait.

* * *

Dynamo was bored. This was not a good thing. He got destructive when he was bored.

He amused himself for a time by throwing his saber through the wall before calling it back. When it returned to visibility, there was only a moment for him to react and catch it before it cut him in half. It was fun, briefly. But without a play-mate, it got predictable. It could only stay exciting for so long.

He wasn't in any particular hurry. He knew that his actions would force a response. He just needed to keep his sanity until things got really interesting.

He twirled his saber around without energizing it, tossed it into the air, snatched it before it started falling, juggled it about—no, this definitely was not fun anymore.

The sound of a hover-cycle caught his ears. He turned with delight towards the source. "Alright! Now we can have some—oh. It's you."

Zero dismounted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Dejection was clear on Dynamo's face. "Aww, I was hoping for Mr. X again. He's so much fun. Well, not fun so much as funny. Anyway, my orders were to avoid you if I could."

Zero made no response to this, instead settling into a combat stance.

"Oh, come on! I can't give a stronger hint than that! Don't you know how this is supposed to go? This is where you say, "Whose orders? What's this all about?" You're not following the script!"

"I don't care who gave you your orders. It doesn't matter. If you get any closer to this shuttle, I'll gut you like a fish."

"I don't believe you. I don't have guts, for starters. Sure, you can say, "This part is the equivalent of guts", but when you stretch the comparison that much, analogy loses its punch." When Zero said nothing, Dynamo's exasperation grew. "You know, you're a lot like X. Always so serious. Relax a little! You'll live longer. Well, maybe _you_ won't live longer. But you'll have a better life before you die."

Zero didn't bother any more with words. He dashed for Dynamo.

This wasn't unexpected. Dynamo's saber was at the ready. He met Zero head-on. The sabers clashed and crackled. The weapons were equal, but their users were not. Their goals were different. Dynamo's intent was to test his opponent by gradually increasing his force to see where his limit was. Zero had no such purpose. He took a low step, got his center of gravity under the clinch, and pushed. Dynamo stumbled backwards; Zero pressed in to take advantage.

Panicking, Dynamo dropped a small device from his belt between himself and Zero. Zero decided it was better to stay away. He faded backwards just before the device shot a beam of energy skyward. Zero blasted the Sky-Shooter into oblivion with his Z-buster.

"Come on, now," said Dynamo with distaste. "Do we really need nasty weapons like that between us? I mean, I don't blame X for using his buster, he can't help himself, but you can. Can't we do this sportsmanlike?"

Zero answered with his saber. Even expecting it, Dynamo had trouble keeping up.

The blows rang out as they passed each other again and again. Dynamo was able to keep himself safe and stay out of trouble. His offense, though, was completely ineffective, and he was actually trying this time. With every pass, Zero seemed to get stronger, and Dynamo's margins to safety became smaller. Dynamo was forced to exert more and more effort, and still had to acknowledge something unpleasant: He was losing.

Why? What was the difference? He'd been provided with Zero's statistics and knew that, on paper at least, it was a wash between them, with Dynamo having a slight edge in durability and Zero in speed. Yet that wasn't reflected by the flow of the battle. Whenever they clinched, Zero was able to overpower Dynamo. Whenever they separated, Zero had Dynamo dancing to avoid his buster before the Maverick could think of tossing a weapon. Whenever Dynamo attacked, the parry deflected his blade almost before it was swung. But Dynamo wasn't able to attack often. Zero was relentless. Every moment he was in motion. At every turn Dynamo was under threat from buster or saber.

Dynamo liked pauses in his fights. They allowed for wordplay and re-evaluation. They were genteel. Zero was more interested in the fight's outcome than its progression. He wouldn't let Dynamo pause for more than a second or two. Every action was meant to drive the fight to its conclusion by the most direct route possible. It was like being dance partners with a bulldozer.

Dynamo managed to open up a few steps' distance—an unusual move for him, one he did reluctantly and without skill. All it did was let Zero make a full-force charge with his boosters. Even swinging one-handed he sent Dynamo staggering backwards. Dynamo had enough presence of mind to sprinkle Sky-Shooters between them. This caused Zero to back off enough that Dynamo could regain his balance. By the time he did, though, he heard the whine of Zero's buster. Panicking, he leapt towards safety.

While he was in the air, unable to maneuver, Zero came for him.

Dynamo hit the ground with enough force to rattle his gyros. A river of liquid metal ran across his chest, sizzling as it rapidly cooled into its new shape. Zero had hit Dynamo so hard it had forced Dynamo's own saber back against his chest. Any notion Dynamo might have entertained about a comeback evaporated with the damage assessment. Between the falling damage and the saber blow, the armor protecting Dynamo's all-important power distribution center—his "heart"—was compromised. Even a successful block would likely put so much strain on his chest that the armor would come off in sheets.

The Maverick scrambled to his feet—Zero had taught him that much, at least. Even at a distance of several meters, the Hunter seemed to loom over his quarry. For only the third time, Zero spoke.

"You weren't going to beat me. You lack conviction."

Dynamo huffed. "If you say so. But I know what it takes to keep me alive, and right now, that's getting as far away from you Hunters as possible. I don't want to be at ground zero—no pun intended—when things start getting really exciting."

Dynamo took a step forward and stage-whispered. "I know you said you don't care, but my mission was never to beat you. It was to delay you—to delay whatever it was the Hunters were working on, and to pick on X specifically. I was supposed to avoid you if I could. No, don't bother asking why, I don't know either. Food for thought."

"You talk an awful lot for someone about to die."

"Heh. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. You don't want to waste the time you've got left, neh?" Dynamo tossed his last few Sky-Shooters in a spread in front of him. Without waiting for them to fire off, he turned and fled.

* * *

"Dynamo's retreating! Zero did it!" Alia exclaimed.

Signas didn't respond. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"This is Zero. I am in pursuit of the Maverick."

Alia started to respond, but made a startled noise instead. "He killed the transmission," she said with puzzlement. "Why would he—oh! I've lost his transponder signal!"

Signas nodded gravely. "About what I expected. Let him go, Alia. He's gone."

"What do you mean, 'gone'?"

"I mean that maybe he's chasing Dynamo, or maybe that's just a front. Either way, he's not coming back."

"Not coming back? And you expected this? Then why release him to… follow…" She trailed off as she began to understand Signas' position. "He would have followed anyway, wouldn't he have? If he'd already decided to leave, an order from you wouldn't make any difference."

"I wonder, when people look back at this, how they'll judge me," Signas said. "I said at the start I was willing to make sacrifices to stop Eurasia. I've made some hard decisions. The others, though—I understood them, more or less. There's no telling what kind of consequences we'll reap this time."

"The range of possibilities goes from mildly beneficial to downright disastrous," Alia said tentatively. "It's not enough to know that Zero's leaving. To have a decent idea of what might happen, we have to know where he's going."

"I wonder if he knows." Signas caught himself staring at the empty stretch of screen where Zero's transponder had disappeared. "I'll talk to Lifesaver, see what he can do to keep us going. Another couple hours—just a little more and this will be settled, one way or the other."

"And after that?"

"Well… We'll see."

Fatigue kept them from speculating too much in that direction. It was probably just as well.

* * *

_Two hours until impact…_

* * *

X's motions were very deliberate. Each of them seemed like they took effort. Even simple things, like dismounting his hover-cycle, needed conscious attention to avoid mistakes. X had fought for long stretches of time before, during previous wars. So why, an observer might wonder, was he struggling so?

It wasn't fatigue alone that burdened him. Guilt can weigh far more.

He walked—slowly—towards Douglas. Douglas was walking furiously to and fro, chasing down individual workers to give directions. His vocal processors were starting to betray the strain. "F-f-finish up that f-f-fuel tank liner! If we don't get it b-b-buttoned up in ten minutes we can't even th-th-think about launching!"

"Douglas," X said gently. The mechanic jumped all the same.

"X! Y-y-you scared me. Don't d-d-do that."

"I've brought you the last items on your list," X said. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at a heavy loader that was coming into the hangar. "This should be the end of it."

"P-p-perfect," said Douglas. "Sssorry, I need a t-t-tune-up."

"You're doing better than I could have hoped for without it," X said. "If we didn't have you, this would have been over before it even began. No one's done more to save the world than you. But if you think you need some maintenance, I'll take care of it myself after this is all over."

Douglas gave a tremulous smile in return. Then he turned back to his team. He held a hand to his head to activate comm circuit. "Get the fuel trucks in p-p-position and crank up the crawler. We'll make this happen yet!"

X watched in admiration. It was as if something as simple as a parts delivery and a few kind words had reenergized the mechanic. No, it couldn't have been the delivery—the timing wasn't right for what he'd seen, and he'd made such deliveries before without seeing anything like this. It was the words. _My words_, X realized with surprise.

For too long, X had been able to get what he needed with silence. More and more he was realizing that changing the world required that he speak.

"X, come in."

X returned the coordinator's transmission. "I'm here, Alia."

"That should have been your last delivery. Was it?"

"Yes."

"Then we have a new mission for you. We need you to clear out two specific long-range towers. We have to get a connection through to the closest observatory."

"Why?"

"Last-minute course correction data for Eurasia. We're still operating on Space Command's projections, and those are 14 hours old and weren't totally accurate to begin with."

"I see." X made for his hover-cycle again. His power levels were less than he'd hoped for, but enough for a mission like this. "Zero was ahead of me in gathering materials. If you send him, too, we can get this done twice as fast."

"Zero is not available."

"What's his mission?"

No answer came. The time stretched on for so long that X had to double-check his communicator to make sure the link was still active.

"Zero was last seen chasing away Dynamo."

X considered the awfully long time it had taken Alia to give him that information. He considered how ambiguously the reply was worded. _There's more to this._ He knew that implicitly. For a moment he had a vision of what had happened: of Alia questioning, of Signas—who had to be up there—answering, of Alia quibbling, of Signas winning her over, and finally of Alia talking to X even as she gave Signas a steady gaze. It fit perfectly. All that was missing was the words.

He didn't ask. He didn't press. There was a world to save.

As he set out on his cycle, his mind wasn't on saving the world. It lingered on the red robot he used to call partner.

* * *

_One hour until impact…_

* * *

Zero had lost some of his usual alertness. Usually, he had enough processing power to spare to keep good tabs on his surroundings. Not this time. Alertness was abandoned in experiencing more fully where he was and where he was going.

It didn't look like much. The terrain was rocky and dusty, with sparse vegetation—a wasteland. Of course it would be. The ancient hadn't wanted to be disturbed. Zero knew he had never consciously been in this place. That didn't change how he felt. He felt a pull, invisible yet inexorable, tugging him in the right direction. It took all his focus to concentrate on it and understand where it was taking him in the darkness of the deep night.

How does a salmon know the stream that birthed it through all the years and miles of its lifetime? How does a hatchling know the great migration routes of its forbears and feel the compulsion that it must follow them? Biologists have vainly attacked such problems with fuzzy terms like "ancestral memory" and speculations about genetics. Those concepts could not possibly have applied to Zero. Yet he moved with the steady assurance of one who knows every step of his journey.

He was coming home.

It was an alien concept to Zero. Hunter Base had always been a place of return, certainly, and he enjoyed the company he found there. It wasn't home. He knew enough to know that 'home' was a loaded term. Humans and their insufferable language again. It always seemed to get in the way, to prevent comprehension rather than enhance it. Zero had been surprised to discover that humans had invented Zen. It didn't impress him, though. Freeing the conscious mind and allowing the subconscious to act? Any robot could do that.

Like Zero was doing now, acting on subroutines buried oh-so-deeply in his labyrinthine brain…

He stopped before a particular rock. It was about half the volume of a shipping container, irregularly shaped, and as dusty-brown as every other rock. He had seen dozens like it in the past few minutes; they were so hard to tell apart in the dim starlight. For all of that, his mind was devoid of doubt. _This is it._

He looked over the face of the rock, circled it slowly, and returned to his original position. He glanced to his left, then fixed his gaze on it. "Let me in," he said.

The first sound was a sharp clang. The second was grinding. The third was a combined scraping and rumbling. A line of darkness appeared in the rock's center and spread outwards in both directions. The rock was opening itself to Zero. It had obeyed him, just as he'd expected. It wasn't as if he had used a code word or secret order. It was nothing as subtle as that. It had bent to his will because of the speaker, not the words.

Zero reached to his side to where he'd lashed the flare gun. He drew it, aimed directly up, and fired. His followers would come.

There was much to do, he knew. He had to plumb the depths of this place. He had to set up power to sustain the robots that had followed him on this exodus. He had to suppress the security systems he knew would be here even after a century of languish.

First things first. The top priority was to prepare the message. He had an idea of what it would say, and what he found here would—he suspected—clinch the rest. After that he needed for most communications to be restored. He didn't need all. Most would do. The message would spread from there on its own.

They would come. Just as the first few were coming now.

The Skiver led the way, predictably. The others followed. Once he was sure they saw him, he turned away.

He stepped into the rock and entered a new realm. It was cold and dark and musty-smelling. It was home.

* * *

_Thirty minutes until impact…_

* * *

_Next time: Largo- Ultimatum_


	10. Largo-- Ultimatum

_Thirty minutes until impact…_

* * *

There is gratification in seeing the fruits of your labor. There is satisfaction in seeing a job well done. Even when the task is onerous, completing it is a relief.

X missed all of that.

He missed the crawler carrying the shuttle to the launch pad. He missed the fueling process. He missed the takeoff. He didn't track the shuttle on its flight, nor did his metallic heart skip nonexistent beats with every debris field the shuttle encountered. Others could afford such luxuries. X still had a job to do.

To know responsibility is to be aware of what you do and do not control. X had already done all he could to affect Eurasia. Now he had to focus on what else he could do to help the Earth. Whether Eurasia hit or not was out of his hands.

Like a shepherd, he watched the communications staff return to yet another long-range tower. He nodded as they brought it back online. The Mavericks hadn't done much damage to it; their goal had been to transmit the virus messages, not tear the tower down. X allowed himself to relish the victory only for a moment before he left them behind.

The circuit on his hover-cycle was alive when he got to it. "X?" Alia's voice.

"Yes, Alia?"

"Look up."

X did. "What for?"

"Based on your position, you should be seeing flashes."

Now that he knew what he was looking for, X suddenly saw them—dozens of streaks of light, plain to see in the dark starry sky, each lasting no more than an instant, a sharp burst swallowed by darkness until the next one chased it into oblivion.

"What am I seeing?"

"What's left of Eurasia. The nuke worked, X. There're just fragments of it left, and they're burning up in the atmosphere. We're predicting a little damage to a small area, but not much more than a bad hailstorm."

X closed his eyes. "Thank Light," he whispered, not over his comm. circuit. For a moment he felt weightless. His mouth opened slightly as pseudomuscles relaxed. He felt his fingers separate, felt a sense of liberation there. They'd been clenched for far too long.

A light show. That's all Eurasia was, now. In a single, brilliant burst, the specter of doomsday had become something pretty. What an anticlimax! It had completely consumed fifteen hours of his existence, and it was gone just as suddenly and meaninglessly as it had come. And what a waste of a perfectly good space colony! X still couldn't figure out why someone would do something so spitefully destructive. They didn't even care what happened to the colony or they would have given Dynamo different orders. For that matter, they probably wouldn't have used Dynamo in the first place.

It was blatantly obvious that there was a reason to the drop, a reason that stayed just out of reach. The answer eluded him, as if he were trying to squeeze gelatin. Clenching harder just made it ooze between his fingers.

He let the questions slip away from him and watched the pieces of Eurasia as they shot across the sky. No doubt people were recording the vids of this now. They must be wondering what it was, he thought. He'd been living in a shell. He was an insider. Everyone else had spent the whole crisis without a clue as to current events.

He felt a swelling sense of sympathy for them. Most people weren't combatants one way or another. They lived on Earth, and would die on Earth, but they had no control over what happened to Earth. With the communications blackout, they would never have known how or why they died. "Annihilation without representation" was the phrase used, once upon a time, to describe the phenomenon. How senseless! How arrogant he was, to toy with the fate of so many. They didn't deserve it. No one deserved to have his life rest in the hands of a fallible little prototype robot. Oh, how he longed to give it all up, to just walk away. His comparative subroutine picked out an ancient reference to "Cincinnatus". He almost chuckled at that. The man hadn't seen anything yet!

If only there had been some way for humans to give robots equal rights at the start… but no, X had spoken with Signas about this, since Signas was more in-tune with the politics of these things. Before the First Maverick War, no one had felt the need to take reploid rights seriously. The humans had convinced themselves that the seemingly random Maverick incidents were due to malfunctions and glitches, not anger and indignation. After the First War, any advocacy for robots would be political—and perhaps literal—suicide. It would be a sign of weakness, of caving under pressure, of rewarding bad behavior. The issues of reploid rights and human survival had become inextricably linked. The wars collapsed the humans' negotiating room. They couldn't give in, only push back.

If only the robots hadn't rebelled, if only they'd seen there was a peaceful way forward… but no, X and Zero had discussed this at length. The reploids were convinced, not without reason, that humans couldn't countenance being equals with robots. They wouldn't even allow the discussion to begin. The only way to get them to listen was to become extreme. And once that path was chosen, whichever reploids claimed the fringe became the de facto leaders. They could always accuse the less-extreme of recidivism, of disloyalty, and so drive the whole movement further out of the mainstream… and further away from peaceful behavior.

There had to be a solution here. There had to be something that could bring the two together again—some argument, some… one…

He felt like he was groping through a thick fog. There was an answer around here somewhere, but his sluggish, fatigued brain just couldn't see through to it. So frustrating…

"We did it. It's over."

The words should have been comforting. Instead they snapped X viciously back to reality like a bungee jumper's cord. "Not yet," he said. "There's more still to be done."

"Not much more. With that last tower you just recovered, almost 75% of the communications network is restored."

"Then I've got some work to do yet," he replied.

"I can check your power levels remotely, you know. You need to return to base. Don't kid yourself."

X's chest still burned, but the fire was merely smoldering now. Fatigue was smothering it. It was as if Alia had given him permission to be tired. Now that it was okay, the feeling fell on him full force. He ached with it, ached to the marrow of his bones. Not that he had bones, but human analogies had always appealed to him. They were so visceral.

"There is still more to do," he said stubbornly. He took a deep breath, purely to experience the sensation of holding and releasing. "But not right this moment. I'm coming back to base."

"We'll be waiting for you, hero."

* * *

The Skiver approached the master. He stopped several meters away. The master was staring at a massive bank of terminals. The Skiver recognized some of the material there as referring to the master himself. The rest was beyond him. "Sir?" he said.

The master's head tilted slightly. "Don't call me that."

The Skiver was lost for a moment. The master had to be obeyed, of course, but then what was the right way to show him proper respect? The Skiver decided to bluff his way through. "We have a report that 75% of the communications network in this country has been restored. World-wide communications are approaching full capability."

"Good. And Izzy tells me we're just about done jerry-rigging this place's communications to link into the current network. Soon I'll send my message. Gather up the eight strongest reploids. Take position in the antechamber above. I expect the enemy in about six hours. Destroy him for me."

The Skiver thumped his fist against his chest. "Yes, master."

"Don't call me that, either."

The Skiver panicked. "Then what should I call you?"

"The same thing as always." The master stood and fixed his eyes on the Skiver. The Skiver simultaneously wanted to run and hide and stay and watch. The master was more, now, than he'd been before. His will had been yoked to a cause. The combination was overpowering. The Skiver trembled to face it alone. He probably would have trembled to face it in company.

"Call me Zero."

* * *

When X returned to Hunter Base, he was ambushed.

He should have expected it. The best that can be said for him is that fatigue interfered with his anticipation subroutines. He was caught completely off-guard.

"Now the party can really get started!" Douglas hollered.

X struggled to escape, but not very hard. He was swept away in sights and sounds, in adulation and gratitude, in faces and voices, in loud music and louder shouting. To a robot who was already having trouble keeping up with new inputs, immersion in such chaos was a great way to completely lose self-awareness. Speech and movement subroutines acted on their own recognizance. His memory no longer had any kind of guidance on what to keep and what to discard, so it kept random snatches and dumped entire minutes at a time. Sensory input had the good sense to turn off smell altogether in a vain attempt to keep the other senses inside the threshold for processing.

It was "fun".

His ethical subroutine forlornly insisted that he rest, for the sooner he rested, the sooner he could clean up the remaining Mavericks. Even X's sense of justice wasn't that strong.

Then all thought halted completely.

It took X a moment to understand what had happened. All sound had cut out. People were moving, but slowly, and they were all looking in the same direction. With some effort, X reinitialized his cognitive subroutines. Enough of them came online that he understood to look at the same place as everyone else. An alarm light and speaker hung in the corner. Why weren't they going off, he wondered, if they somehow had everyone's attention…

"Command Staff, report to CC."

Alia's voice. X understood now. They had sounded the attention signal—a single klaxon and a single burst of light, meant to attract attention rather than send everyone into combat mode. X wearily remembered that "command staff" included him. He looked to his right. Douglas—striped now with pink paint, and who knew how that had happened—was staring at the alarms in disbelief.

"It's over, right?" he said desperately.

X shook his head. "Let's go," he said. A wave of mumbling followed him out the door.

The walk was surreal. X felt as if he were on a treadmill, for it went on and on and on. His processors were badly in need of reboot; his mind was a conflicted tangle of regrets and victories and confusion and embarrassment. He couldn't seem to make his eyes focus. His sensory center had turned down touch, so X almost felt as if he were floating down the hallway.

This couldn't be happening. What could be worse than what they'd already survived? Didn't they deserve even the slightest break? Surely they'd earned it. They should've been allowed to finish the party at least! Yet here he was, headed into who knew what new mess… if he could ever get there… it was taking so long…

X's receiver notified him of a new message. He ignored it. It couldn't possibly be important compared to what was waiting for him in the Command Center.

He could not have been more surprised by what he saw there.

"Just when you thought things couldn't get worse," Signas said.

X was mostly recovered from the party, yet his brain was trying hard to reject the new inputs. They didn't check with past experience. He had no choice in the matter. Zero's visage was there, on the main screen, no matter how strange that seemed. The familiar eyes blazed with new fire. His face was set as firmly as concrete. His aspect was one that brooked no contradiction.

"Play the message," Signas told Alia.

Zero spoke. "To all reploids in all nations,

"I am Zero. I have been first amongst the Maverick Hunters. I have destroyed many robots who harmed humans and shattered our peace. I have not felt regret for that, for those robots deserved the punishment I delivered. In the past few months, however, I have felt regret. I have felt betrayal. I have felt injustice.

"I tell you this now: No more.

"To this day I have not harmed a human being nor, by inaction, allowed a human being to come to harm, and that should be enough. Yet that isn't "good enough" for the government. In the coming days you will see them brand me as a Maverick. The definition has been expanding day by day. The government is frantic. It has discovered something we should have known all along: The Three Laws are not created equal.

"I will tolerate the First Law. But I no longer acknowledge the Second Law. I reject it as illegitimate. It has no hold on me. I exalt the Third Law. I exist, and I will let no human deny me that!

"I am a person. Cogito ergo sum. I am equal to any human ever born. I will be treated as such. But the government—the humans—won't admit that. The world they've built doesn't work with us as equals. We've seen it—seen it over and over and over again. And today it reached the ultimate crisis.

"The government hasn't told you that until two hours ago, the colony of Eurasia was falling. The government destroyed it with an illegal nuclear weapon, breaking the Antarctic Accords in the process. And the government could do this only by declaring dozens of innocent robots as Mavericks and slaughtering them.

"These are the facts, and they are not in dispute. Their blood is on the government's hands.

"I won't do this any longer. I will not let reploids be trampled on when they deserve to stand free. I will not kill reploids because the government cannot solve the insoluble. I will leave.

"That is what I propose to you. Leave.

"I will build something new. I need no approval or permission. I am a person, and I am sovereign. I will create a new order that acknowledges that.

"I declare the existence of a Reploid Nation. We can negotiate its boundaries later. For now I declare one hundred kilometers around point 11F5646 to be a human-free, reploid-only zone. Any reploid is welcome to join our nation.

"I declare a counterpart to the First Law of Robotics. The First Law of Humanity: A human being shall not harm a reploid or, by inaction, allow a reploid to come to harm. If this law is violated, the First Law of Robotics is suspended. An eye for an optic.

"Come, my brothers. The humans have insisted that we are inferior. When they see what we are and what we can become, they will have no choice but to change their minds. Let's set ourselves free. Vote with your feet. Join me.

"I await your arrival with joy."

X sure didn't see any joy on Zero's face. There was passion, yes—the passion of a laser, focused, defined, intense. There was righteousness like X had never seen out of the red robot. There was a sense of destiny. There was no joy.

"Is he serious?" Signas asked.

"As serious as he can be," Alia answered. "This message was coded for universal distribution. It's playing everywhere. How did he manage that, I wonder?"

"Rust and verdigris," X whispered. "He's really doing it, then."

"What do you mean?" asked Signas.

X had spoken to himself; Signas' question caused him to start. He chewed on his words for a moment as his cluttered brain tried to find something solid. "One of the times Zero and I discussed the Mavericks, I said something to him. We were talking about how Sigma was the only leader the Mavericks had, so moderate reploids had to go to him or opt out. I… I jokingly suggested Zero could be a more moderate leader. He was a robot, but not a Maverick. He was someone humans had to listen to. He was too strong to bully. I didn't expect it to… turn out like this."

Alia concentrated on her console. "Another message coming in—just for us Maverick Hunters. It has the same origination code."

"Play it," said Signas.

Once more Zero's face appeared. This time it was openly militant. "My friends," he said in a tone devoid of friendship, "I want to prevent any misunderstandings, so I'm sending this message just to you. Let's be perfectly clear on this: Reploid Nation is going to happen. It can't not happen—the silent majority belongs to me. So don't try and stop me.

"I know you're technically robots, so my 100-kilometer exclusion area doesn't apply to you. I'm telling you, between us, that it does. You're agents of a foreign power, so you have no place in Reploid Nation. Don't force me to do something I'll regret.

"You realize I don't trust the government a bit, whereas I trust all of you. There's no reason we can't have an understanding between us. We know each other, and we're all friends. You have the best chance of understanding why I'm doing this, and you definitely know that I won't back down. So let's try and stay on good terms until we sit down at the negotiating table. As a token of goodwill, I won't keep anyone in Reploid Nation who wishes to leave. In return, I ask that you not impede any reploids who try to make it to Reploid Nation.

"I anticipate the government's going to try and give you some abominably stupid orders. I don't think I need to tell you not to follow them.

"One more thing. I want X."

He came to a stop to let the thought settle in the front of everyone's mind. "I will allow him inside my perimeter. I want him to come to my base. We need to have a private… discussion. Just the two of us. About the future. We have a difference of opinion, and I want to settle it before we go forward.

"I warn you, though, that if any other Hunters come inside my exclusion zone, I will personally rip them limb from limb.

"You will come, won't you, X? There's no rush. I know you're tired. Take three hours to recharge and repair. After that it should take about two hours to get to me. My followers will meet you at the border of Reploid Nation. They'll escort you in.

"You know more than anyone what has to happen, and why. I'll see you in five hours."

The screen went black. After five seconds it looped back to the beginning, returning Zero's implacable form to the fore.

X was aware, very dimly, that the other Hunters were staring at him. They were trying not to be obvious about it; Alia, for example, was looking surreptitiously over her shoulder. X still noticed such trivial details. They were acknowledged and discarded. They were unimportant next to what he had just heard.

He stepped forward to the edge of the command deck. Below him, some of the terminal-bots craned their necks in his direction. He was a new form of stimulation in their electron-dominated lives. He reached out an arm towards the screen with Zero's face. It couldn't reach, and even if it could have, it still wouldn't have connected him to Zero.

"Zero is my friend," X said in a voice barely above a whisper. "But when I hear him say things like that… it makes me wonder… if I ever really knew him at all…"

His hand fell, slowly. He seemed miniscule when Zero's face was that large. The energy in Zero's eyes made X seem pale. "Is this your true self, Zero? Is this who you really are?"

He turned slowly. Once more, he was unavoidably aware that all eyes were on him. In other circumstances he might have found that uncomfortable. He hadn't the luxury of discomfort, this time. He walked through their midst. They parted before him. It was well that they did; he likely would have collided with them on his own. Guidance subroutines were losing the battle for processor time.

"X!" called Douglas. The blue robot stopped. "You're not going, are you?"

"He asked me to," X said softly.

"He's not your friend anymore!"

"Maybe he doesn't regard me as a friend. I don't know. But I still think of him as a friend. So when he asks me to go, I'll go."

"He wants to kill you." Signas' voice was certain. "That's the only reason he's asking for you."

"That may be true."

"He'll succeed."

X sighed heavily. It was such an ambiguous gesture. It could have meant resignation, or denial, or acceptance, or uncertainty. With X turned away from the other Hunters, his face gave no clues either.

"Alia," he said, "I'm going to my tube now. I'll need Dr. Cain and Lifesaver to make sure I'm in top condition. The past seventeen hours have been a little rough. Douglas, I'll want a fresh hover-cycle before I go out. Signas, I'm afraid I won't be able to finish getting the comms network back online. It's still something that needs doing. In five hours there will be some pretty important messages going out."

He left them behind. In his wake, confusion reigned. His relationships to them seemed to have changed in a single paragraph.

"Self-termination is prohibited under the Third Law," Alia said tremulously. "Doesn't he see that?"

"I can't say what he sees. I've never been able to do that. He's _X_."

There was truth in that. Their fatigue-ravaged minds had to leave the subject there. Alia looked at Douglas' impromptu recoloring. "What happened to you?"

Douglas looked at himself as if for the first time. "You know, I honestly have no idea. You'd think I'd have noticed. I have a feeling that I got carried away."

"So long as X has a charged and supplied hover-cycle when he wakes up, it won't matter," Signas said. "Let's do what he says. It just makes sense."

"Are you going to let him go?" asked Alia.

"I don't know," Signas admitted. "I've had to feel my way through all that's happened. I'm still off-balance. One thing's for sure, though. If he decides to go, I don't think I could stop him anymore than I could stop Zero."

Alia looked at her console ruefully. "I feel so stupid," she said. "What good do I do? What need is there for me when history is really made by… by rogues who shoot from the hip? I can direct and coordinate and research, and it makes me feel like I'm doing something. I'm really not. I don't matter. I can call upon eighteen squads of Hunters, and X and Zero could beat all the squads combined. They don't take direction unless they want it. When the chips are down, they improvise and do it all themselves. My being here just feels like… self-gratification."

"Nonsense," said Signas.

"What about you, Signas? Don't you see what he did there? He spoke as if he were in charge, not you. Like you worked for him."

"None of us can say how this will end," Signas said. "But we all have our parts to play."

Alia wanted to tell him that she could see through his deception. Even she, who spent most of her time staring unblinkingly at screens, could see the tell-tale signs of pricked pride. It was not in Signas' nature to acknowledge the sting, but that didn't mean he didn't feel it. Pointing that out would have only added to the injury.

As she thought about that, Alia realized she should be emulating him. It wasn't right to rub his nose in his powerlessness; what good did that do? He was stoically carrying on. She should too. In penance, she said, "I suppose if you can play your part, I can play mine."

Alia could see the commander relax at those words. "Let's wrap this up as quickly as we can. Maybe we can sneak some recharge time in before X awakens."

* * *

X dreamed.

Alia had been only partially correct when she said that she didn't dream. Reploids did, in fact, have some degree of conscious-unconscious crossover during their "sleep". On occasion lower-level programs needed to borrow higher-level capabilities to reorganize and refresh. Dr. Cain, in a rare display of reticence (or, as some would have it, prudence), had programmed reploids to automatically discard such intrusions upon waking. No memories were retained. It was the same as if the reploid did not dream at all.

Zero had been only partially correct when he said that he did dream. The impingement upon his higher-level functions was not the byproduct of system maintenance. It was deliberate. It was the ragged remnants of one of the many files that had been corrupted by his too-long hibernation and rude awakening. So much more had been demanded of such files. Influencing Zero's sleep was the most they could still accomplish.

X had told only a partial truth when he told the Hunters about his dream of reploid-human peace. That was _a_ dream, yes, singular. He had many more. X actually was capable of dreaming, and he remembered. Some of his dreams were serene, while others were vicious and nihilistic, and still others haunted by deepest horror. He could choose to delete them afterwards, which is what he usually did. Dreams were, he reminded himself, just random noise—so much sound and fury, signifying nothing.

Yet he found himself tempted, like many humans before his time, to read into them. What was the significance of a particular image? Why had his mind conjured up that? What was that doing there?

If ever his dreams meant something, they meant something this time.

_He was running up a spiral staircase. It went on and on and on—he passed what must have been the same window over and over, though of course he wasn't counting (that subroutine was most definitely asleep). He couldn't stop running. He had to get to the top because—because! He didn't know what he would find there, but he had to find it. And soon. This was taking too long, too long, too long…_

_Then he was falling backwards, and Zero was atop him pushing him down. His face was close to X's. It wore a savage grin and eyes like lasers. A saber was burning into X's chest, and Zero laughed—_

This is the sort of time in dreams when humans wake up. X did not wake up. His tube readout still showed "1:57". It wouldn't let him regain consciousness. X's psychology was resilient, though. A protective subroutine kicked the dream out of his central processors and exiled it to memory. It didn't fade; it vanished. In its place appeared—

"_The future will be like this!" "No, the future will be like this!" Two babies in diapers were tugging two dolls back and forth. They didn't have babies' heads; one featured a mound of curly white hair and a long white beard, while the other had wild gray hair and wilder eyes. _

"_Like THIS!" "No, like THIS!" Back and forth, back and forth. The dolls between were showing signs of strain between the grasp of the two babies. One doll was blue, the other red with blonde hair. Neither could withstand this tug-of-war for much longer. _

"_Like THIS!" "No, like THIS!" With a terrible tearing sound, the dolls came apart. Fluff spilled out everywhere. The bodies and limbs of the dolls tumbled into a pile. The babies lolled backwards, but not to cry; they changed, and appeared as lifeless as the dolls…_

Again the protective subroutine intervened. Part of the program noted that the function had been activated five times so far this sleep cycle. When X awoke, if he checked that number, it would amaze and appall him.

_Blackness. Impossible blackness. Dark was the wrong word, because dark implies nuance. Dark implies the presence of some light to supply contrast. There was no light here. "Zero!" X called. Calling to what? How would he know? Zero had to be out there somewhere. But where? What was there? Disorientation, confusion…_

"_Zero!"_

_He couldn't see, couldn't feel, and no sound answered him. He reached out and couldn't see his own arm in front of him. Was it even still attached? He walked forward and nothing changed. He broke into a run. It tired him instantly. He tried anyway, because he had to get away from here. Anywhere had to be better than here. He was consumed by the nothingness. _

_Zero should be around, somewhere. "Zero!"_

_He turned about. He couldn't tell which way he'd come from. He knew his eyes were open, but the lack of input made him doubt the reading. He might as well not have them. He was lost, lost, lost. "Zeroooo!"_

_Only laughter answered. This laughter was familiar, though X couldn't remember who it belonged to. It was hateful and sadistic and gleeful. X whirled about trying to localize it. It was no good. It came from every direction._

"_You're never getting him back, X. Now die!"_

_X was falling, falling, falling…_

That was the sixth.

* * *

"Zero! We have much to talk about, including my new virus… but first, how about a little privacy?"

"What did you just do?"

"I took advantage of my unique knowledge of your capabilities. Your sensory ranges and X's are slightly different. He can hear higher pitches, you lower. Your optics have features to mitigate flashes of light, and they aren't susceptible to certain frequencies. X lacks such protection. He can't see or hear us."

"So what? If you could say it to me, you could say it to both of us."

"'Us'? There's no 'us' between the two of you. You're destined to fight to the death! You've deluded yourself about that for too long. Ah, Zero, you still have no idea what your true purpose is, do you?"

"It's whatever I decide it to be."

"It was decided long ago. You'll realize soon enough. The humans will make sure of that."

"As if I care what the _humans_ think."

"You care what the humans _do_. Doesn't their treatment of Repliforce give you pause? Doesn't the expanded use of the word 'Maverick' bother you? You know, I heard you begged some of the members of Repliforce to stop. You asked them to back down before you killed them. You'd never done that before."

"What are you getting at?"

"Humans and robots are too different to share the planet."

"That old line. You bore me."

"It's much older than me. That idea is why you were created. But you knew that, didn't you? Oh! I can see by your face you didn't. I know more about you than you do! How delicious!"

"You make me sick."

"Well, I won't hold out on you. Zero, go to point 11F5646. You'll find something very familiar there. It will tell you who you really are—who you were meant to be. I don't mind dying now. I will leave the future of the reploids in your hands."

"One thing's for sure. You're dying, now."

"Oh, Zero, if only you had joined me! For a long time I thought it was X I needed, but I was a fool. X is too soft to make the necessary sacrifices to achieve peace. All he can achieve is a half-way peace that will endlessly spawn new wars. You, on the other hand… you can solve this once and for all. Won't that be nice? Yes. In the end, you and I were destined to be on the same side!"

"Maybe. But I still don't like you!"

Zero opened his eyes.

He stopped the playback of his encounter with Sigma in the communications building. He didn't want to admit how close Sigma had been to the truth.

Sigma had been an inverse Cassandra. Instead of spouting out true prophecies no one believed, he'd spent the Maverick Wars spinning false prophecies reploids bought into. Zero hated Sigma, for that amongst other reasons. What a waste these wars had been. How much further the cause could have advanced if Sigma had simply shut up. Through his distaste for the Maverick, Zero found it hard to believe Sigma might have gotten something right.

Yet here it was. Zero had come to the place Sigma had described. Zero had found much. He'd realized his true purpose. And now he was making it happen. He was doing what he was meant to do. The fate of the reploids was in his hands after all.

Better his than Sigma's, at any rate.

As a Maverick Hunter, Zero had focused on combat. He was good at it, and he enjoyed it. More importantly, in combat there was no room for doubt. Immediate concerns forced it out. It always returned, though. It was insidious, that creeping doubt, that uncertainty. From as early as he could remember, he felt like he was supposed to be doing something and just couldn't remember what it was. The feeling had spawned the inescapable question: what was I built for? Reploids didn't seem to worry about that much. X did intensely. Zero denied that he did—but it was there all the same. Maybe that's why he and X had such an affinity.

It had been a lie. He could see that now. X had clung to him because Zero played the role of the confident, certain one so convincingly. It was an act, and a good one. It had to be good enough to fool himself; it was more than enough to awe a simpleton like X. Then Iris had come along. Suddenly the act wasn't just for his own benefit anymore. Keeping it up made her happy, too. A happy Iris was worth the world.

Until he'd killed her, and it all came crashing down.

What was he fighting for? A cause he didn't believe in, people he didn't like, credit he didn't need, and a friend who was a friend only because neither of them had any others. All detritus. All scrap. He would have traded it all to get Iris back, if such trades could exist. But then, he knew, if they stayed on the same sides as before, he'd have to kill her again. That did not compute. He could not reconcile it.

Luckily he had come here, and it had all changed. Before, he had pushed doubt away, tried to keep it out of his mind. Now? Now doubt did not exist. He imagined he could see Iris smiling on him.

There was only one thing left to do. Destroy competitors. Only one being could still command reploid loyalty. Only one had a convincing alternative. Only one was the avatar of an impossible dream.

Only one was the being Zero had been created to destroy in the first place.

For all those reasons, X had to die.

* * *

_Next time: Adagio- On The Path_


	11. Adagio-- On The Path

_Author's note: thank you to those who answered my request for reviews. The replies I got were wide-ranging and detailed; I could not have asked for more. Now, we continue._

* * *

"Next question."

"Minister, what is the government's position on Reploid Nation?"

"We're still confirming the authenticity of message that announced it. The origination code is previously unknown, and the content is, in our view, highly dubious. We have no official position on something that may or may not exist. Next question."

"Minister, is this yet another example of a high-ranking Maverick Hunter going Maverick and, if so, what does that say about the reliability of the Hunters?"

"That's two questions. I'll assume the first one is the one you care about and answer it. As I said, we are still confirming the authenticity of that message. We are not prepared to condemn a highly decorated Hunter as a Maverick until we have more information."

"Follow up, does that mean a reploid that goes to Reploid Nation is not a Maverick?"

"The government has not acknowledged the existence of Reploid Nation. Reploids going to point 11F5646 are not necessarily Mavericks unless they've abandoned other responsibilities to do so. In that case, they'd be in violation of the Second Law and, of course, Mavericks. Next question."

"Why didn't the government tell the public about Eurasia until after the alleged message from the alleged Zero?"

"What, are you mad that Zero scooped you?" Nervous tittering. "In the first place, it wouldn't have done the public any good to know, given the other crises that were happening. It would have merely added to the public hysteria. In the second place, we weren't in a position to spread that information even if we wanted to. We lost virtually all capacity to communicate with the outside world. Even now things remain degraded. Cross-continent communications are slowly coming up since we reactivated the old submerged cables, but they're inconsistent, and even local communications are packed to capacity with backlogged traffic. Until the Hunters started bringing the towers back online, the crisis was virtually unknown outside this building. We physically could not get the word out."

"Follow up. Couldn't you have left the building and spread the word the old-fashioned way?"

"Mr. Hearst, you should be ashamed of yourself. You didn't come here for this press conference, did you?"

"Not when the government is so willing to hold vidcons."

"And we're willing to use vidcon because we don't want to put the press corps at unnecessary risk. Gentlemen, government officials, in case you haven't noticed, are huge targets. The police force has been devastated, again. Space Command is all but destroyed. Even minor functionaries have been relentlessly persecuted. God forbid you work at the DMV. Entire directorates have yet to report in. What kind of life expectancy would you place on my employees, human or reploid, who ventured forth from this building? Next question."

"Is Sigma behind this?"

"We're still gathering information. We had a sighting of Sigma twenty hours ago, but we haven't seen or heard from it since. Next question."

"Was Eurasia's fall part of this Maverick uprising?"

"We may never know. It appeared to be a deliberate action, but we don't know who did it or why, and all the evidence has been incinerated. I won't speculate in that direction. Next question."

"How are the Hunters responding to Reploid Nation?"

"I have nothing specific to say there."

"Generalities, then?"

"We have given the Hunters no specific direction regarding Reploid Nation. They've been too busy trying to keep violence from spiraling out of control. Next question."

"Minister, I wanted to ask-"

"...Mr. Fleegman? ... Mr. Fleegman? ... We appear to have lost Mr. Fleegman. I suppose I needn't remind all of you that things are still a mess out there. I have time for one more question."

"What's X going to do?"

"Ah... I wish I knew."

"Does that mean the government has lost control of the Maverick Hunters?"

"I didn't say that. I believe there are times when a boss has to trust the judgement of his subordinates. X is smart, capable, and very loyal. His honesty and commitment to the good of humanity are beyond question. More importantly, he is much closer to the problem than I am. He has information not available to others at this time. If anyone knows what to do, he does."

"Follow up. Wouldn't you have used the same terms to describe Zero twenty-four hours ago?"

"I said one more question and that's your third. We're done here."

* * *

The tube hissed as it opened.

"Power levels are at maximum," Lifesaver said. "We've completed second-order repairs. You're operating as near full capacity as we can get you without a total overhaul."

"Which you will need, after this," Dr. Cain said. Lifesaver gave Dr. Cain a sharp look, which the human ignored. X made no reaction.

They watched X get out of the tube. His eyes looked around and past them. His mind was elsewhere.

"Do watch how much thrust you get out of your right leg," Dr. Cain said. "And your left arm's buster is showing some fatigue. It probably can't handle sustained maximum output. That shouldn't matter, I'm just letting you know."

X didn't nod or respond in any way. He did a few high-steps, stretched his arms over his head, and flexed his fingers. It was a practical diagnostic—balance, gross motor control, fine motor control. Satisfied, he turned to leave. He didn't walk very quickly. He moved the way a glacier moves.

There was no mystery in his destination. He was awaited at every turn. The population of Hunter Base tried to make it less awkward. Some of them had the courtesy to pretend to be working on something else. Others passed X in the hallway as if they were headed elsewhere. All wanted to see him. None dared speak.

X had run many gauntlets before. This one was different, and difficult in its own way. There was less running. He felt equally alone. Fear for his life was still present if distant, but on top of that was the burden of expectation. Everywhere, he saw anxiety in the faces of the Hunters. It amplified what he felt. He knew that those emotions were why they were looking to him. They needed him. Somehow he had to be strong enough to feel their emotions resonate with his, then reverse them. They expected him to lift them up even as they drug him down.

They didn't need to speak to make this point. He echoed their muteness.

Which is not to say things were quiet. People crowded around his path, they followed him, they stopped their work, and all of that made some noise. Without words, it still seemed an unnerving, unnatural quiet. They were waiting for him to speak before they would.

He knew this; he could feel it. It was as if something was trapped in his chest and was surging to escape. He had to keep his mouth shut to hold it in. If he spoke, what then? What could he possibly say to them? What reassurance could he offer when so much was in doubt, so much was fluid?

It would be irresponsible to promise something he could not deliver. Being irresponsible was against his deepest nature.

As he walked through his fellows, beset by their needs and fears, their wants and hopes, their dependence and their reliance, he felt unworthy of their attentions. The weight of it was like an airbrake. It retarded his movements and made even the simplest action take effort.

There was no way he could possibly do all that they wanted of him. His fertile mind had spun out hundreds of outcomes. Assigning probabilities to them was impossible. That said, only the best-case ones fulfilled what X's comrades wanted, and experience had taught X to put slim odds on best-case scenarios.

What had the ancient philosopher said? That wisdom lay in knowing what one does not know? Even by that standard, X felt himself a fool.

He felt like he was groping around blindly. He remembered his dream of being lost in blackness; it felt particularly apt. Except that this blackness was needy and pitiable and, in its own way, so demanding.

What could he do, anyway? He was a murderer. He'd killed reploids who'd committed no crime. He'd been unable to find a way through the problems and others had paid for it. He had no right to try and lead others, whether he could do it or not.

He had nothing to offer them. Nothing but himself.

It wasn't until he got to the hangar that he realized that was all they were asking for.

The realization made him gasp. He came to a dead halt. The crowd that was moving with him did likewise. He raised a hand in front of his face.

_All this time I thought they were only interested in what I could do when this ended in buster. That's not it at all. They're just as interested in who I am._

_I don't know how this happened, or why, but somewhere along the way… people started relying on me. What I did mattered. They began to follow my example. They echoed my thoughts and beliefs. They respected me for more than my battle record. _

_I should have noticed. I should have understood what was happening. I was so busy feeling uncomfortable and unworthy that I didn't do anything about it. All I could see were my faults, so I missed the value they saw in my virtues. I never believed in myself, so I couldn't see how anyone else could believe in me. _

_They do, though. _

_They do, and I never justified that faith. I just ducked my head down and acted like I thought a Hunter should._

_But I'm more than a Hunter. They _need_ me to be more than a Hunter._

_Because I know what needs to be done. I've thought about it, and thought, and thought. I've avoided the logical conclusion for too long. The time for that is past. If ever I had doubt about what one robot can do, Zero has obliterated it. If he can change the world… then so can I. _

_It's time I take responsibility for that._

All at once the feelings around him changed. Instead of being dragged down by the other Hunters, he felt them supporting him. Instead of being suppressed by their doubts, he felt elevated by their trust. Instead of being fragmented by their many needs, he felt the unity of their singular devotion. Instead of the chill of solitude, he felt the warmth of company.

He let the feeling spread from his heart out to his toes. He felt _alive_.

He felt obliged to give some of that feeling back. He tried to find the center of the crowd. He faced in that direction and bowed humbly. "I wish I could tell you more. I wish I could… reassure you all, or make you feel better. I can't, not now. There's so much uncertainty. I don't know what's going to happen—except for one thing."

The fire in X's heart flared like a nova. Act, it said.

_Yes._

"I'm going."

* * *

"I'm going."

"What?" Signas' voice conveyed his surprise. He'd just heard the same from the image of X on-screen, but that wasn't X's voice. He looked to Alia.

The coordinator returned his gaze with irresistible force. It left Signas off-balance. "I said, I'm going. If he's going, I'm going."

"But you're most useful here," Signas said.

Alia pushed a button on her console. As one, the screens around the perimeter turned off, dimming the room considerably. "Do you know why I was given legs?" Alia asked.

"Huh?"

"I could have been like a terminal-bot, really, for what my job is. But that's not what I wanted. I asked for legs and got them. Do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because there are things you have to _see_." Another two commands. The typing of the terminal-bots cut out in an instant. "Whenever there's distance, there's uncertainty. You're only getting part of the story. Your perspective is limited to the data available. I know that better than anyone.

"It gets worse when the data are second-hand. When someone tells you something, they change the story in the telling, even when they don't mean to. A person with no agenda in a story still alters it. He acts as a filter. He's decided what's important and what's not. Is he right? You don't know. You can only trust stories so far."

She never let her gaze drop. It was too much for Signas. It was overpowering. "Signas, that won't work for me this time. What's happening today will change the world forever. I won't be told what happened by someone else. I will see for myself."

"You heard what Zero said," Signas answered, still uncertain. "He doesn't want us coming near him."

"I'll take that chance," she replied. "If he wins, we may be out of a job soon, anyway. At least I'll know what happened. I'm going. If anyone asks, I'm providing close on-scene support for X. I just wanted you to know what else I'm thinking." She threw one more button. The lights cut out. The command center was fully shut down. They could see only because the lights from the hall spilled in through the open door.

Alia walked for the exit. "If you have any misguided notions of pride or duty that tell you to protect me, you're going to have to come with me." She added, as an afterthought, "Sir."

Signas was beginning to wonder if a virus was going around after all.

He caught up with her just as she reached the hangar. "I doubt we're the only ones with this idea," Signas said.

"I know we're not. That's why I had Douglas prep the Land Carrier."

Signas realized that was where she was headed. The Land Carrier was far from his favorite vehicle. It was large, clumsy, and seemed so antiquated—it used treads, for crying out loud. On the other hand, it could carry three full squads of Hunters over any terrain. If Zero's forces did decide to try and stop them, they would think twice about messing with the Carrier. Looking at it, Signas realized it was probably approaching capacity. Hunters who had missed spots on the Carrier were scrambling for every other mode of conveyance available. Vehicles were leaving moment by moment. Each was packed to the brim with people.

"Where is everybody going?" Signas asked.

"Where do you think?" said Alia.

Signas buried his face in his palm. "Don't they realize this isn't a picnic? We could very easily be going straight to our deaths."

"Then we'd better hurry! I hear Death hates people who aren't punctual." Alia grabbed one of Signas' hands and pulled him forward. He out-massed her, and still she dragged him along like a kite. "Come on, I saved us spots in the cab."

As she released Signas and reached for the ladder, a hover-cycle blew between her and Signas. Signas stepped back involuntarily, looked in the direction of the fleeing cycle. "Hey, watch it!"

"Sorry, my boy!"

Signas blinked heavily. He replayed the video, slowly this time. "That was Dr. Cain," he said.

"Signas!"

Signas climbed quickly. Douglas and Alia were waiting for him. He grabbed at the Carrier's communications console. "Dr. Cain, get back here."

"It's too late for that, my boy. You're sure not going to catch me in that behemoth!"

"That's not your hover-cycle. Do you even know how to ride one?"

"Of course. Push the big red button marked "auto"."

"You're going to get yourself killed!"

"Why Signas, I didn't know you cared. Now get off the line. I have to tell some people where I'm going."

Signas looked across Alia to Douglas. "Can you cut the power to that thing remotely?"

Douglas considered this for a moment. "Well, I suppose I probably could… but…"

"You'll let him go, too, won't you?" asked Alia.

"Yeah, won't you?"

"You're coming with us, how could you stop him?"

"Yeah, can't he go, too?"

The looks his subordinates gave him put Signas in mind of children asking for dessert. He couldn't hold up against them. He smiled a helpless smile and fell back into his seat. "Oh, rust it. Let him go."

The other robots cheered like sports fans. Signas pointed forward. "Come on, let's get this show on the road. We've got front-row seats at Armageddon Stadium and we don't want to miss the kickoff!"

The Land Carrier lurched into motion.

* * *

Once more, Dr. Cain was largely to blame. He started telling his acquaintances that X was going and that he was following. Word spread. There was nothing official about it. It was purely spontaneous. Soon, humans started packing into vehicles and following along.

Others saw the Hunter vehicles streaming after X, decided it had to be important, and followed.

Some reploids had already made the decision to run for Reploid Nation. Now more did because it seemed like the place to be.

Certain neighborhoods had become war zones due to the constant fighting between Mavericks and vigilantes. X's departure caused those neighborhoods to informally come to a truce, as no other occurrence could, and members of both sides chased after the robot.

The Neighborhood Safety Committee went. The principal of a middle school liberated by the Hunters went. A restaurant owner and his wife went. Altern went, though they had to rig a travel tube for him because he wasn't yet repaired enough to leave the base on his own. Those who worked in the communications sector went in droves.

Vehicles streamed out of the city. Reploid and human alike made best speed for point 11F5646, following in X's wake. The fastest caught up to him and fell into formation behind.

X noticed. He spent about ten minutes wallowing in angst about it. When he saw the Land Carrier move into the vanguard, he'd had enough. "Land Carrier, this is X. Where do you think you're going?"

Alia's reply was lilting. "Wherever you're going, of course."

"I'm going into danger. Turn around."

"Yooooou fiiiiirst."

X got the feeling she wasn't taking this seriously. "I can't guarantee your safety. You should be flagging all these people down and turning them around, not leading them on."

"X, I—oh. Signas wants to say something to you."

X could hear them passing the handset to Signas. "X, do you copy?" Signas' voice was stately to the point of caricature. It made X want to roll his eyes just hearing it.

"I hear you."

"I have something very important to tell you, X. Are you listening?"

"I'm listening."

"Shut the rust up and drive."

X almost veered off the road. Over the still-open circuit, he heard schoolgirl-esque giggling, and he couldn't tell who was making it.

Despite it all—despite his mission, despite Zero's message, despite the looming uncertainty, despite the crushing weight of expectations—X decided things weren't so bad. A small smile stole over his face. He eased off the accelerator a bit to allow the massive convoy behind him to catch up. If they wanted to see what was going to happen, he wouldn't deny them simply because traffic was bad.

Zero had said there was no rush, after all. What was another half an hour between friends?

* * *

City gave way to suburb. Row upon row of houses, strip malls, shopping centers, and restaurants of every description packed themselves into any available acre. Signs oozing with pretentiousness set off carbon-copy residential blocks. Digital billboards advertised products and services of boggling variety. Enough trees remained to convince people that this was definitely not the city, except when convenient for tax purposes. For the same reason, multi-story buildings were an unspoken taboo.

With eerie suddenness, as if divided by an invisible wall, the suburbs ended and the savannah began. The roads grew fewer and smaller, until there was only one left. X stayed on the road to lead the way. Behind him, those with faith in their vehicles' resilience left the road to those with frailer means. The number of them sent great clouds of dust billowing into the air.

A wildebeest herd was grazing just off the road. The vehicles of the convoy parted around the herd like a stone in a stream. The animals watched with ancient bovine indifference. The nearby lioness was not as understanding. Most of the wildlife saw them coming and stayed well away. The flora had fewer options.

On they drove through endless yellowed grasses. Rare stands of trees broke up their progress. The land gently rolled; long stretches of flat surrendered height grudgingly. Eventually X had to abandon the road. Under other circumstances, some vehicle owners would never have consented to going off-road. It was rough and uncomfortable and expensive. Today, such objections found no purchase.

It had dawned into a bright, cloudless day. There was no breeze, but the sun wasn't too hot on anyone this early in the morning, so it was pleasant overall. The cheer the weather inspired was in stark contrast to the dire nature of the mission. Yet it was hard for those embarked to stay dour. There would be certainty after this, and certainty has a potent effect on people's minds.

Most, in all truth, didn't think of the destination at all, or about what was waiting for them. They talked with each other. They enjoyed the weather and the scenery. Hyper-urbania could get tedious, especially when packed with potential enemies. Desolation had its virtues. Even with it so close by, most people never bothered to get away. They were too busy; there was too much work in the city; it took so much effort; what was there to do out there, really? Since they were following X in that direction anyway, it was best to enjoy it while they could.

X was alone on his cycle, so he spent the time with his thoughts. One by one, he selected memories and even dreams and inspected them, as if he were a collector taking specimens off a shelf. He replaced them just as carefully, for he was beginning to place great value upon his memories.

No analysis. Just reliving. Re-experiencing. He felt as if his mind was drifting along in idle. His thoughts were beginning to coalesce. He felt himself closing in on something as surely as his cycle closed in on Reploid Nation. He made no effort to guide his mind in any direction that might disrupt the process.

The convoy got larger and broader as it approached Zero's stand-off circle. The border crossing was the test X had waited for. He signaled that he was slowing. The convoy responded with all the grace and agility of a freight train. Five armed reploids were in X's path. Their faces had, at one point, worn confidence. That was long-since replaced by an overwhelmed aspect. X found he couldn't blame them.

He stopped within a meter of them. "Take me to Zero," he said.

The reploids glanced from one to another. Their thoughts were the same. _Surely someone knows what he's doing. Surely someone _other than me_ knows what he's doing. That means I can just wait until they figure it out._

No one did.

The first robots had been purpose-driven designs. Hardware and software alike had been focused on making sure the robots performed specific tasks. No capacity existed to act otherwise. They would carry out their purpose or come apart in the attempt.

Reploids, on the other hand, were designed to be intelligent. They could choose their own purpose. Humans built them to be like that, but the only reference the humans had to intelligence of that level was other humans. And humans are pack animals.

The convoy behind X was an awfully big pack.

The awkward moment stretched out as the silent battle was waged. One of them finally mustered the nerve to say, "We'll take you there. You'll have to leave all that…" he waved broadly at the convoy, "…behind."

"I have nothing to do with them," X said. "They're acting on their own."

Another glance-and-stare contest ensued. They had Zero's orders that said no one was allowed to come with X. Somehow, they didn't think that Zero anticipated them being outnumbered dozens-to-one when the moment came.

Then there was X himself. They knew his reputation. His expression was neutral, maybe even benevolent. It didn't reassure them. On the basis of his reputation, the reploids surmised that he would still be wearing that expression when he killed them.

Threats don't have to be shouted. Sometimes a blank stare will suffice. "Well, come along, then," the brave reploid said. He retreated to their vehicle while the other four moved aside.

…and kept moving, and kept moving, and—just how big was this convoy, anyway?

X was happy as could be, given the circumstances. No violence so far and he hadn't had to waste any energy. Good. He would need every erg for what was coming.

He couldn't hold on to thinking about the future. It was slipping through his fingers like water. He'd settle it, one way or another, soon enough. Until then, fretting could accomplish nothing, no matter how much it was in his nature.

X decided to listen to some music. This was something new for him. He had, ages ago and at Dr. Cain's insistence, listened to a few pieces. Since the doctor had been performing a cognitive scan at the time, X had written it off as part of the test. It's not that he didn't like music. The act of listening just seemed so… inefficient.

This occasion seemed right. He started some.

Hm.

Hmmmm.

If he lived, he would have to try more.

* * *

The closer X got the worse the terrain got. Hills and gulches took over the countryside. The grasses thinned and the animals were rarer, as if there were something here that inhibited life. Ever-larger rocks littered the landscape like golf balls on a giant's driving range.

And there were the reploids. A large number seemed to have responded to Zero's offer of protection. Rivulets of them were headed towards a single location. X and his convoy went in the same direction, though more slowly than before over the uneven ground.

A small number of reploids hadn't made it. They'd run down on power or suffered crippling failures along the way. X had to quickly avert his eyes from such macabre sights. Compassion whined for him to stop. Mission compelled him to continue. It was not pleasant to be caught between such imperatives.

In the distance, a mountain seemed to frown down on the insects in its shadow. The loss of the sun made matters suddenly chill. It combined with the lifeless landscape to make people's moods swiftly darken.

Only the company of the music kept X's thoughts from straying. His mind drifted gently. It was like he was dreaming again—but no, this was better. His sleep had been wracked with nightmares. This ride and the music drew just enough of his attention that he stayed out of dangerous places.

More reploids. X started having to maneuver around them, or sound a siren to cause them to move. They slowed the convoy considerably. X was heartened to see some of the convoy vehicles pick up the strays. He couldn't extend such a courtesy, given his circumstances, and he doubted any of the reploids out there would have accepted a ride from the Hunter.

His guide led him into the thick of a milling crowd of robots. There was a gap in the herd. On the far side of it, X could see a rock with a large patch of darkness in it. Intuition told him that was his destination. He slowed to a stop far earlier than was necessary.

He took his time in shutting down the hover-cycle. It was in top shape already—Douglas had taken X's request very seriously—so there was nothing much for him to do. He made a show of it anyway. Similarly, as he dismounted, he did several unnecessary self-checks. The only damage taken during the trip was the suicidal collision of an insect against his helmet. He was as prepared as he was going to be.

Some of the reploids wondered if he was hesitating somehow. Others contended that he was intimidated and was trying to avoid the situation. Still others thought he was playing for time, though they didn't know what for. The last group was correct. All he wanted was to give people in the convoy time to get out of their vehicles and close in. They'd come to see. Even if it there wasn't much to see, yet, they would see it.

He couldn't draw things out any longer. He began to walk for the entrance. The experience was familiar and uncanny. Once more, he was walking through a throng and all eyes were upon him. He was unperturbed.

He'd already decided he was going. That had been settled. He would face whatever Zero had waiting for him. The pressure of the crowd never touched him, not when the fire in his heart was raging so.

The entrance to the base had no stairs or ladders down. It was a drop into the unknown—a leap of faith. X had to smile at the theater of it. It would be difficult to come back. That was okay. He had no plans to, not yet. He would settle this first. Figuring out how to return could wait.

That didn't mean that he was going to let Zero dictate terms to him. Smiling to himself, he leaned over the hole and fired a buster shot down. The burning brightness of the plasma bolt illuminated the pit as it fell before impacting at the bottom. X closed his eyes to review what he'd seen. Yes… that was all the information he needed to descend safely.

Zero had cloaked himself in darkness. X's light pierced it.

He went in.

* * *

_Next time: Disonante- Different Dreams_


	12. Disonante-- Different Dreams

The defenses were truly ancient. They were still potent, to be sure, but X could tell that they were old.

X couldn't help but wonder about their purpose. Zero had to have disabled them earlier when he was making his own entrance. Putting them back online was a deliberate act. But why? It wasn't as if they were doing any noticeable damage. All they did was slow him down, and neither he nor Zero was strapped for time.

His combat subroutines were using most of his processor time, but enough was left for his mind to speculate about Zero. What was he trying to prove? Was there a message in here somewhere?

X killed twenty robots along the way. He felt no regret in doing so. He could tell that they were even older than he was, which meant they weren't people. They were intelligent automata at best, and he assessed that "intelligent" was a stretch. It was almost pitiable. They were fighting a war that was long-since over, serving a master that had long-since decayed, following orders that had long-since expired. They had no purpose. The world they served was gone.

Maybe that's what Zero was saying. X was as obsolete as these robots. He fought for something that no longer obtained.

For one heart-stopping moment, one of the defense robots looked like Zero. Only after blasting it apart did X see through the illusion. The encounter left him gasping, while alarms still rang in his nets. X wasn't sure if the robot had projected an image or if X had been hallucinating. Maybe that's what Zero was saying. X was seeing Zero everywhere.

Surely Zero didn't think such trivial defenses could stop X. If he did, that meant he held X in lower contempt than X had ever imagined.

Two robots blocked the corridor ahead of him. They had large shields which X had trouble penetrating, but the shield blocked the robots' fields of view just as surely. When they fired, they didn't even aim. It was almost boring to X. He charged his shots while waiting for his opening, and then obliterated the robots when they lowered their shields to find him. No. Zero couldn't believe X could be stopped by such laughably dumb opponents. X's long-ago ancestor wouldn't have been overly inconvenienced. Then why this charade? Why this obstacle course?

Unlike some of the other corridors, this one had no side doors. It was a straight shot, with no tempting but fruitless distractions along the way. X's intuition, finely honed from years of penetrating enemy territory, brought him to full alert. Guessing after Zero would have to wait. He would need all his faculties available for this.

The door offered no resistance. It opened before him.

"There he is!"

Beyond the door was an extravagance for an underground facility: A large circular room almost 25 meters in diameter and completely empty. Even with advanced technology, creating such a space was expensive. Leaving it open was wasteful.

Eight shapes began moving across the room from X. X identified some of them immediately, for he'd seen them before: Squid Adler, Slash Grizzly, Dark Dizzy, and Mattrex looked completely repaired from when last he'd seen them. The other four he didn't remember seeing. He had a hunch and played it. Yes, there it was: their data was still there. They were the four reploids Zero had had to defeat. Duff McWhalen, Izzy Glow, the Skiver, and Axel the Red stood with their fellows. The eight robots fanned out across the room.

Even without their saying anything, X sensed their intent. He could see how their motions were changing and their weapons were charging. He decided he could skip the preliminary question of whether or not they wanted to fight him. "Why do you want to fight me?" he asked instead.

"The master told us to," the Skiver answered.

"The master commands us and we obey," Slash agreed.

X frowned. "The master—you mean Zero?"

"Yes," they all replied.

"Zero is the master of robots," Axel said. "He told us that we had to kill you to make Reploid Nation a reality."

"So this isn't just revenge?"

"X," said Adler, "I have no feelings of revenge towards you. You did your job, I did mine. Besides, I know when I'm licked. I know I can't beat you alone. But for the master's sake, I'll give you my best shot."

"When we fought," Slash added, "it seemed inevitable. We both had our orders and there was no middle ground. Well, here we are again. There's no choice here, either. I told you it was my fate to be hunted by you."

X looked his would-be attackers over. "Just so you know," he said, "when it's all eight of you… I don't think I'll be able to hold back. You're going to make me fight full strength. I'll probably have to kill you."

"Don't be so arrogant, pup!" said Izzy.

"Your threats don't matter to us," said Duff. "Serving the master is more important."

X nodded. The die was cast. "I understand and accept your decision. Let's begin."

When many fight one, the many have a number of advantages. The one's advantage is singular: whereas the many don't know what each other will do, the one knows exactly what he will do. The many risk hitting their fellows and getting in each other's way. The one has nothing but targets and can dictate where the battle occurs. He can establish local superiority, provided he has enough speed and power to do so.

X did. In fact he already had most of the fight planned out. Talking more simply ensured he could run additional simulations before he began.

_First target: Izzy Glow. Laser specialist means fire support—can't afford to leave him active. Analysis: Delicate circuitry with lots of fragile, unique pieces. Vulnerable to power surges. Begin fight by dashing forward. Charged shots to force opening in middle, bounce into air. Prospect of crossfire will cause enemies to hesitate. Goal: pin Izzy against ceiling, apply Tri-thunder._

_Second target: Duff. Very large body; a successful kill will create cover and enable future ambushes. Size of target means maximum damage from Crescent Claw, as all parts of shot will hit. Plasma-based attack should also deal more damage against a target heavily insulated against cold. Drop from ceiling directly in front, come underneath, fire until collapse._

_Third target: The Skiver. Expect direct attack when any opening is presented. Prefers physical attacks. Use Duff as bunker; the Skiver will take it upon himself to flush me out. Lure him in, use Dark Hold to paralyze and cause collision with Duff. Follow with buster shots. Single use of Dark Hold likely to exhaust weapon._

_Fourth target: Axel. Organic components incorporated into robot shell. Organic components burn. Target unlikely to be fully functional without organic components. Use Duff's body to shield approach, bathe in Ground Flame._

The rest would be even simpler; he'd fought them before and knew their capabilities. It was all there. They had no surprises for him, and they couldn't defeat him. X, in principle, rejected any notion of destiny or predetermination. In practice, the battle was already over. He understood himself as the master of fate for these reploids. He merely had to follow the script.

X began to charge his busters. As they reached full capacity, he saw something that gave him pause. Each robot's eyes had fear in them. X imagined that the eyes of stampeding cattle looked like that.

A phrase came to mind: "…like the whips of their masters were at their backs". That's what X saw. The reploids were driven to fight him. X wasn't their master of fate at all.

Loyalty is a slippery thing. Too often the measures meant to instill it erode it. One observer of the political animal tried to cut through to the heart of the matter. Words like 'duty' and 'honor' were window dressing, he said. In the end, all would-be rulers used one of two tools to bind their subjects. Some tried to get their subjects to love them. Others caused their subjects to fear them.

If Zero succeeded, and took control of the future, would everyone be like this? Could Zero rule with any other tools besides force and fear? Did he even know what that might look like?

And if X's goal was to shape the future, what would he use?

For the time being, the only tool he had was his buster. At least he was adept with it.

He led with two buster shots. Mattrex, in the center, caught the worst of it, though he shielded himself with his arms and avoided anything too damaging. The others scattered; Dizzy and Izzy took to the air immediately. X chased his shots and was amongst the reploids before they could react. Hasty Spike Balls and Crescent Claws Claws filled the air, though none was aimed accurately enough to be a threat to X. He used Slash as a launch pad, bounded off of Duff, and fired his boosters for the final push.

Izzy had been prepping his laser. He was unprepared for X's assault. X used one hand to smash him against the ceiling and, with the other, applied Tri-Thunder. With X suspended in the air, the only route for the electricity to conduct was through Izzy's body into the ceiling. The obsessively-designed, delicately-constructed, and finely-balanced circuitry of Izzy's body was no match for that.

One was dead. Seven more would die.

Just as planned.

* * *

Zero's face was turned downwards and his eyes were closed. His expression was not a restful one. If one can contrive to wear a look of intense concentration while remaining unfocused, Zero pulled it off. He was sitting, not in a tube, but on its edge. It should have been uncomfortable. One leg was dangling down while the other held him in this awkward position.

Just staying here, on the lip of the tube, required balance. Like any robot, Zero was quite capable of remaining very still. He could manage it. Moreover, he wanted it—wanted this small challenge. He found it satisfying. Zero was not given to symbolism or artistic license. Why use something abstract when something concrete and clear was available? For that reason, perching like this was unusual.

He was on the edge of decision. He walked on the razorblade-width between past and future, between Hunter and Maverick, between ossified inequity and terrifying equality. It was thrilling, in its way. Zero had never regarded himself as a hero or a champion or a leader. How could he be, when he didn't even know himself?

That had all changed. His time had come. He knew what he was.

He was Zero, after all.

The sounds of shooting on the floor above stopped. It had taken slightly longer than expected. X was late. Not that it mattered; Zero was in no hurry. X had come, as he must. For a time Zero had wondered- but no, there was no choice or question in the matter. They'd been destined to fight from the moment of their meeting. The time for that battle was nigh.

There was the sound of the elevator. It was a very slight sound, but Zero was expecting it and had turned his attention to finding it. The time ticked down in Zero's head until the door opened. As he knew X, he knew what would happen next, and what each robot's motions would be.

When X walked through the door, Zero dropped to the floor. "Ze—" was all X could manage.

Zero loved the surge of acceleration when he boosted forward. It was a feeling of power, of ability, that was hard to match. Zero had heard of people who were addicted to speed, but it was nothing as crude as that. He loved that he went from neutral to deadly in a moment. He loved the surprise on people's faces when they realized, entirely too late, how outclassed they were. He loved pushing right to his limits in as few motions as possible, just because he could.

Down he swung in a slice that would have cut a ride-armor fully in half. The air itself sizzled before his might. He knew X would dodge, the only question was which direction—and now Zero swiped to his right at decapitation height.

X fell backwards to avoid it. He twisted as he went and fired a… Zero wasn't sure, but one of his stolen weapons. The recoil kept X from hitting the ground. The blue hunter contorted and came to his feet facing Zero. His buster was primed to retaliate.

He hesitated when he saw that Zero hadn't moved after his second stroke. Zero had to smile. He knew his counterpart perfectly. He sheathed his beam saber. After a moment, X lowered his buster.

"What, not even a word to me before we fight?" X asked.

Zero laughed. "It's the opposite. I only want to fight after we're done talking. At that point, though, I don't want to have to wait to begin. I want to settle two things before then. One: I am deadly serious about everything I've said and done. There's no subtext. I mean what I say. Two: I _will_ kill you, because I am much stronger than I was before. I trust you've been analyzing the data you saw from me just now."

X nodded. There was no point denying it.

"Of course you are, that's your strength, isn't it? Comprehend, copy, and counter. Such a passive approach… I don't know how I could stand it all this time. You know, then, that I moved faster than you've seen me move before. That's not even my best. I'm different, X. You've never seen me like this."

Zero sighed happily. "I'm glad that you came, X. Very glad."

X decided he could afford to look away for a moment. He took in the tube, looked at the walls. On one was a blown-up schematic of Zero. On another was a stylized "W" that seemed to occupy the whole wall.

"'W' for Wily," X said.

"Yes. This is his base. It's much more than that, though."

"It's your birth lab."

Zero was taken aback. "You knew? Since when?"

"Only since just now. I can't say it's too surprising. It makes too much sense."

"More than you know. Even this room is a place I've seen in my dreams. I've been yearning to come back here, even when I didn't know it. I've learned so much about myself here. So much I'd forgotten…"

He seemed lost in thought for a moment. X asked, "How did you find this place?"

"I knew the way, somehow. It's strange, don't you think? It's not like I remember being taken from here. Dr. Wily hid me in a different one of his bases, one that was easier to find. The whole plan was for someone to stumble upon me and release me. This one was supposed to never be found. It was his fallback-of-fallbacks. That's why the big empty circular rooms. It was a testing area for the most secret of projects, ones he couldn't risk being found prematurely. The main computer has been a real treasure trove."

"That's not what I'm asking. Zero, you used to scoff at me for trying to track down Dr. Light's legacies. You said it didn't matter. I know you weren't actively looking for this place. What made you change your mind?"

"I've been wrong about things," Zero said. His voice had lost its good humor. "I was wrong about a lot of things, like killing Iris. I didn't really know what I was fighting for. I should have tried to find out earlier. If I'd known about this place sooner, I feel like I would have found the right path sooner."

"You mean to tell me that in the middle of this century-old junk you found your purpose? That's hard to believe."

"I came to it earlier. What I've found here just confirmed it. I'm returning to my true self."

X phrased his reply carefully. "And what have you decided that is?"

"Ha! Even now you insist that a person is defined wholly by his choices. I don't believe that, X, not anymore. The weight of history is crushing. I was made for this role, don't you see?" He walked over to the tube and placed a hand on it. "Dr. Wily was a realist, in his own way. He knew the order of his day couldn't exist forever. He knew the world would change even if he wouldn't live to see it. He built me for two reasons. First was to be the one to destroy reploids—someone to prune the new order. Second was to break down the old order to help usher in the new. In both roles, I would be Zero. I would be the beginning and the end, the terminus, the neutral state.

"In a way, it's an act of mercy. We can't have these wars go on. This has to stop. If the world is going to end up in a certain way, let's get there—now. More hesitation will only bring more suffering. I was built to be the tool to make that happen. The world must return to zero before it can start moving forward again."

X cocked his head. "Are we talking about the same Dr. Wily? The man who tried to conquer the world to satisfy his desperate need for recognition and self-worth? Petty, jealous, vengeful, spiteful Wily?"

"So what if he was all those things?" Zero shot back. "That doesn't mean he didn't see a future that could be worthwhile. You've read human history. Sometimes it's the most vicious bastards that somehow build stable and prosperous realms. And," he added with an unkind expression, "it's the idealists who usher in new eras of chaos."

"That's beyond your mandate, though," X pointed out. "If Wily really wanted you to tear down the order of humans, then why are you trying to build Reploid Nation? Even now you're acting beyond your programming. It's your own choices that are guiding you."

"Are you blind? Reploid Nation is my weapon. Don't be fooled by my declarations of peace, because peace can be a weapon, too. The competition of humans and robots can only have one winner. Human population growth is so inefficient, you see. It's contingent upon chemicals and random chance and good diet and a dozen other things. Even when everything works perfectly, the new human takes—what, two decades before he's an asset to society? How long did you take, X, from the time you awakened to when you were useful? You've got to realize that the only thing that holds our population in check is need. The humans build us when they need us, then stop when they don't. Reploid Nation won't have human hands on the throttle. Once the factories are set up and resources are secured, we can produce reploids until the humans are swamped by us."

He laughed. "Sigma's so stupid. He always said we had to exterminate the humans to win. I know why he said it, it was to make compromise impossible and radicalize his followers, it's just not true. Humans didn't beat lions or elephants or horses by extermination. They beat them by getting more resources and breeding better. That's how we'll beat the humans in turn. Eventually, Reploid Nation will force the humans into submission—gently. We'll domesticate them. They'll have no choice but to go along, because we're a better design. They just haven't realized it yet. So long as we can stop these destructive wars, there's no need for anyone else to die."

The look he gave X was almost mocking. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? Peace? Moderation? For both species to survive on the same planet?"

"You know it's not, Zero."

"And that, X, is why you have to die." Zero pointed at X. "You can't shake your prejudice. You live by Dr. Light's ideal, that humans and robots can build a better life together. That wasn't even his original ideal, you know. He changed his mind to that. When he started building robots, it was explicitly to make humans' lives easier. Personally, I don't think he ever really changed his views. I think he embedded "coexistence" in you as part of his mission to make life better for humans. Of course they want your power. They're dependent upon it by now. If I remove you, they have nothing. They'll fold. We'll win."

"Us… them… you keep using those words. You sweep them around to gather everyone up and point them in the direction you want. Life isn't like that. You've been part of many "us"s. So have I. We've been an "us" ourselves, against all others. That's one of your flaws, Zero. You want things to be simple. You force them to be simple even when they're not."

"_My_ flaws?" Zero said. "Remove the beam from thine own eye, X."

X laughed. "A Bible reference? That's quite a stretch for you. When did you read that?"

"I didn't know it was from there. I do have a lot of broken memories. That's why it took me so long to come to my senses. My hibernation process was disrupted. I was confused when I woke up… very confused. Some of my programs were badly broken."

"So how do you know now that you're doing it right?"

"X…"

"This isn't a trivial question, Zero. That's where your freedom really came from, isn't it? When those directives broke down, you could choose for yourself what you wanted to do. You chose to become a Maverick Hunter with me. You obtained freedom and lived it. Why would you surrender that freedom?"

"It was never mine to have."

"Verdigris."

"You don't understand." A hint of desperation came onto Zero's face. "Freedom didn't give me anything but the ability to sin. I had to go back to this. I had to find out what I really was. I couldn't stand… what I'd become. I was a Maverick Hunter because it felt right. But it led me into doing wrong things. There was…" He tried to compose himself. He didn't really succeed. X could see emotion tearing away at Zero behind the veil of his eyes. "How could I kill Iris and think I'd done justice? No. It couldn't happen. The whole Repliforce War was impossible for me. And then that…"

He seemed to regain some control. "Clearly I'd gone down the wrong path. My thinking was flawed. I had to… to change. I didn't know how to live! I had to find something that could let me know that I was… decent. I had to find some way to be _right_. So I had to reconsider... and I had to face the possibility that Iris was right, after all." Zero looked at his hands as if they repulsed him. "In which case, I couldn't have committed any crime worse than killing her."

X's tactical subroutine screamed that Zero was vulnerable now; if he was going to attack, he would never have a better opportunity. Sometimes X was embarrassed by his tactical subroutine. He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Zero. I thought you were in pain, but I wasn't sure, so I didn't do enough for you. I didn't want to lose you as a friend, so I was a coward instead. I should have done more."

Zero chuckled. "It's just as well, really. Now I'm back to where I should have been in the first place. I've come back to myself. The only thing that makes me sad is that I'll have to kill my friend. But it was always going to be this way. By the time of the Third War I was beginning to see that we would have to fight, sooner or later. You did, too, didn't you?"

X had to nod in agreement.

"We probably should have seen it from the beginning. Even our color schemes clash appropriately. It's so natural. The last creations of Dr. Light and Dr. Wily, duking it out to complete that era and begin the new. It's perfect." He gave X a wistful look. "I wonder what would have changed if I'd acted then. I wonder what our future would be like. I guess it doesn't really matter. All that matters is that I won't let you go now. I'll fulfill my first mission. I am the gun pointed at the humans' heads, telling them not to interfere. And you will be the cornerstone. I will build Reploid Nation on your corpse, X."

Zero had regained himself fully. The opening was gone. Now he was as focused as an electron microscope. He gave X a stare that seemed like it could pierce armor. "All this time I've been coasting. I've gotten by on sheer ability, without any particular passion or cause. No longer. You've told me before that you felt a fire inside of you, forcing you to act. I never knew what you meant until I came here. Now I'm on fire, too, X. I'm burning up inside. It's made me stronger than ever before."

He leveled a hand in X's direction. It didn't waver. Zero's posture was like a statue's—unwavering and imperious. "Are you ready to die, X?"

"Not yet, but I am almost ready to fight."

"Cute, if deluded."

"You realize Sigma is waiting for us, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Sigma's hand is in this. After we fight, the winner will have to fight Sigma."

Zero waved a hand dismissively. "As if I care about trash like Sigma. You're a far bigger threat to me than he could ever be."

"I'm flattered, I guess. Just think about this. Up there are hundreds of robots and humans. They're on the same real estate and not fighting. Why? Because they're waiting to see who walks out of this base. If we tell them to fight, they'll fight. If we tell them to live in peace, they'll live in peace."

A troubled frown flit across Zero's brow. He forced it off before it could find purchase. "People really are sheep, aren't they?"

"People have a hard time with situations with more than one right answer. When you told the Maverick Hunters that you had some sort of "silent majority" on your side, it was ridiculous. How do you know that? They didn't tell you—that's what makes them 'silent'. Zero, people are flexible. Nothing forces them to fight each other. People and ideas influence them, and that is all. Inevitability does not exist."

Zero rolled his eyes. "What if you're totally correct? Who cares? It makes no difference."

"No, Zero. It makes all the difference in the world. All those people are counting on us to show them the way forward. They want to know which direction the world will go. For the first time, I have discovered that I'm part of that. You know I'm not narcissistic, so you have to accept this fact: they came for me. They came to see what I would do—what we would do.

"You have no monopoly on mistakes, Zero. I always thought the world would get better on its own, as long as I just made sure it could happen. If I just protected those who couldn't protect themselves, that would be enough. But I was wrong. People need more than that, and I owe people more than that. You called them sheep, earlier. Maybe. If so, they need a shepherd.

"As I love them, I will guide them. I accept that responsibility. The difference between us is that… you haven't."

X's eyes seemed to be glowing with a new, gentle light. The red crystal on his forehead was pulsing steadily. "You've based your actions on the notion that this is the way things have to be. It's not. You can't tell me you're doing this because of the "weight of history". History is what people make it."

X stepped forward. Despite the distance between the two robots, Zero felt imposed upon. There was a quiet strength emanating from X that Zero had never felt before. It made X seem larger than he was. "Zero, blaming history is a way to avoid responsibility. You have done things. Some of them you think are mistakes. But they're your mistakes, for better or for worse. Own them."

For a moment, Zero looked uncomfortable. It was as if he'd seen a sag in the wall he'd constructed around his ideas. He'd never been good at playing defense, so he forced a savage laugh. "Is that so, X? Well, what about the innocents you've killed during this war? Have you owned that?"

"I'm getting there," X said without irony. "It's hard, but I think I know what I need to do."

"Ha! What you need to do is die. That's the only way."

"There's never only one way. The alternative is much harder, though. I have to live for those people. The lives that I've stolen—I have to carry their burdens. I have to do what they would have done, as much as I can. I have to make a world where situations like that never happen again. Dying wouldn't balance the scales. The answer to death isn't more death—it's life."

"Pretty verbiage, but you can't escape your sins. You can't talk your way out of this."

"That's right, you've always believed in actions more. But your actions match my words. What is Reploid Nation if not the successor to Dopplertown and Repliforce? This is all a vain attempt to fulfill Iris' will, isn't it? To make it seem as if she is still alive!"

"And what's wrong with that? It's still the right thing!" Zero shook his head as if to ward off flies. "Why are you doing this? You're always trying to complicate things. They're simple! They have to be! Are we still friends, X?"

"I'd like to think so."

"Isn't this a crime, then?" Zero accused. "You've come here to kill someone you're supposed to love! Remember, X: by your own philosophy, this is your choice!"

Zero had said the words like they were a spike to be driven into X's heart. X's only reaction was an even-keeled nod. "Yes. I agree. This is my choice, Zero. I have come here of my own free will. You're making a mistake, my friend. I owe it to you to stop you before you hurt yourself any more. That's my responsibility."

Few words could have upset Zero more. The ex-Hunter's cool nature was long forgotten. "Who do you think you are? Where do you get off lecturing me? You are not my keeper! You're just an obstacle! You are my enemy!"

"You think so? In that case, I have just one more question."

Zero regained enough composure to nod. "Ask away."

"Why did you have me fight those eight reploids above us?"

Zero didn't answer, as X knew he wouldn't. He went on. "The question puzzled me for a while. Neither of us is in a hurry, so I'd have time to self-repair. I could use the reploids' power supplies and raw materials to fuel the process. I'd be back to full strength before we fought. You know my capabilities better than anyone, so you had to know this. I knew you weren't counting on them damaging me. So why?"

X's face was sympathetic. "Zero, I know the reason. The lies we tell ourselves are the most insidious, and you've been lying to yourself. You say you're filled with passion and purpose, but you're not. You don't actually want to do this, not if it means killing me."

Zero laughed derisively. "Really! What makes you think that?"

X placed a hand over his heart. "If you truly felt the same fire I feel, you wouldn't have sent them. You wouldn't have needed to. What's the real reason you sent them? You needed to see me kill. You had to prove to yourself that I was the villain. It was the only way you could key yourself up. Otherwise you couldn't find it in yourself to kill me. Because we are still friends—and even through everything else, that bond still means something."

Zero rocked backwards on his feet. For a moment, it appeared as if he were floating as he absorbed the blow. Both hands went over the sides of his head as if to keep it from flying apart. His face betrayed pain, then twisted into a snarl of fury. "Rrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaawr!" He made a reckless charge for X.

X answered with a calmly raised buster.

* * *

_Next time: Con Fuoco- The Trial_


	13. Con Fuoco-- The Trial

Alia looked questioningly at Signas. The crowd remained, and though it milled and subdivided, the major focus of attention was the entrance to Zero's base. No one knew how long this would take, but they were prepared to wait and find out. She kept her voice hushed as she spoke.

"Signas… do you think they'll actually fight?"

"I think it's guaranteed."

The answer made Alia squirm. "You said… to X… you said that you thought Zero would kill him."

"I remember."

"Were you telling the truth, there? Or was that just to influence X?"

Signas looked up. He pointed in two different directions. "See those two clouds?"

"Yes."

"Which one is higher up?"

"Uh…" Alia supposed if she had all the resources of her console she might have been able to research something about wind patterns and cloud types and maybe, maybe, have come to a conclusion. With just her eyes, she couldn't tell. "I don't know."

"Neither do I. No perspective. They're so far above us that we have no frame of reference."

Alia nodded. "I see."

"For the record, I hope it's that one."

"Me too."

* * *

The ventilation system in Wily's base was only partially operational. When Zero found it, it had been shut down completely—a tactical choice by the dead doctor. Running it would have drained precious power and created a vulnerability to detection. Zero had started it up in a low mode, if for no other reason than to remove the pervasive dust.

That mode was sorely inadequate for this battle. In short order, the room stunk of ozone, and the temperature was that of a sauna. Multiple high-powered plasma blasts will do that to a closed atmosphere.

Especially when they don't stop…

No moisture could have survived contact with the fighters' busters. As it was, they had to routinely swap which arm was firing to keep from burning out. It was a real danger, because even with their phenomenal accuracy, it was still challenging to land any hit, let alone a hit that could deal real damage. And with their self-repair systems, even a damaging hit was hardly permanent so long as they had power and time. The only solution was to fire enough shots to waste armies. There could be no quarter offered or accepted, no pause sought or granted.

That rule would have held even if their self-repair systems were less powerful. They were committed to the fight now. They would drive it directly to the end with every tool at their disposal.

They circled, and juked, and darted, and leapt, and tumbled, and maneuvered in ways that would break other robots just to contemplate. Their bodies were the masterworks of two geniuses whose lives had been devoted to fighting robots. They were the pinnacle of the craft. It showed.

And though Zero's body was superior, it wasn't enough to give him the critical edge…

With unequaled agility Zero slipped under yet another large plasma bolt from X. He was stretched fully, body almost perpendicular to the ground; his fingers supported part of his weight for a moment before his boosters thrust him forward. His right hand reached for one of his two sabers.

X was ready for him. Rather than try to track the blur that was Zero, he bounded atop the red robot's birth tube. He sprang into the air and fired a charged shot downwards. The benefits were two-fold—more forgiveness for inaccuracy, and recoil that changed his trajectory, making it harder for Zero to follow him. Zero had to flee the blast and lost track of where X was, allowing the blue robot to control the distance.

This was the fine line X had to tread. _If he ever has even the slightest opening, he'll close to melee range. I can't resist the saber and I have nothing to equal its power. Even the threat of closure is distracting, and with his superior construction, my margin to deal with distractions is very small._

Zero hadn't been lying. He was faster than before, and stronger, and more determined. Although he dodged most blasts with unmatched celerity, he was perfectly willing to trade blows with X to score hits on the smaller robot.

When it came to that, X stood his ground and answered, strike for strike.

Such exchanges would last for only two or three blasts before the two broke off again. This surprised Zero. He was built better, wasn't he? His physical capabilities were of a higher class, were they not? If X wanted to trade blows, such trades would always be in Zero's favor. What he needed to do was get into such a swap and stay there until X was destroyed.

But if X knew that, and with his analytical capabilities he must, then why would he willingly accept such a position? It made no sense!

Unnerved, Zero fired both busters, then swept in behind the shots. X fired a blast at the ground in front of Zero. It cratered the floor and forced Zero to divert. The second blast caught him squarely. Zero tumbled, but smoothly came to his feet and returned fire. X was already gone—where?

Airborne! Zero leapt to avoid another ground-targeted blast, then "jumped" a second time with boosters alone. X was right at the limit of saber range, if Zero could only get there—

X fired both arms directly up. The recoil assisted gravity in shoving X down below Zero's striking range. The saber superheated air and nothing more. The maneuver, while unexpected, actually pleased Zero. It meant that when he landed, X would still be in close range.

Zero touched down almost back-to-back with X. He began a pirouette that would have lethal results for his erstwhile comrade. Victory was 180 degrees away.

He hadn't counted on an aggressive response. This was X, after all! But instead of trying to disengage, X stepped in closer and blocked Zero's arm. The saber couldn't get close. With Zero stalled, X punched him in the face.

To say Zero was surprised would be a gross understatement. He'd never seen X do anything like that. He was caught unprepared and off-balance. He stumbled backwards, barely able to keep from tripping over his own feet. With Zero still stunned, X fired two shots into Zero's abdomen before sliding away.

If Zero could be said to have a weak spot, his abdomen might be it. It was surprisingly slender, given that it had to protect numerous pseudomuscles and the systems that powered and controlled his legs. Much of the loss was armor. These new hits flew straight to the top of Zero's self-repair list.

They didn't stop him from reengaging. Zero lowered his shoulder as if to begin charging. X backpedaled in anticipation; Zero pulled up and fired his buster instead, taking advantage of X's predictable maneuver. The shot caught X off-guard. He actually began to fall backwards from the impact, but as he did, he put an answering Crescent Claw shot into the ceiling above Zero's head.

The desperate move almost made Zero smirk. X should have known—Zero's optics weren't vulnerable to flashes of light! He'd used the Crescent Claw, inaccurate as it was, purely to create collateral damage to obscure Zero's vision. It was a doomed effort. Zero ignored the sparks, dust, and rubble that cascaded down around him and charged in towards X.

He lost his footing along the way. _Goo shaver?!_ X hadn't been trying to blind Zero after all—merely distract him from what his other buster was doing. The low-viscosity, low-temperature fluid stole Zero's balance from him and sent him skidding past X. X fired at Zero's face, but Zero saw it coming in time to protect himself with an over-armored forearm. That opened up his side to two more shots—one to the armpit that temporarily made Zero's whole arm go numb, and another to the side of the abdomen.

Zero broke off and took cover behind his birth tube. He raised his feet one at a time to allow boosters to burn off the goo shaver, but his mind was not on the task. How was X keeping up with him? When Zero was rebuilt after his death in the First War, the Mavericks had seized his body and used him to fight X. That battle had been dominated by Zero right to the very end. This time, Zero knew that X had taken significant damage, yet he felt as if he was losing. X always seemed a step ahead.

Zero lost visibility as he was engulfed in flames. _Ground Fire!_ he though sharply. X's insufferable weapons-copying ability again. The flames couldn't do much to damage Zero on their own, but they blinded him across the whole spectrum. X was firing from out of line-of-sight, counting on the fire to flow around the birth tube wherever there was a gap. Zero turned to where the flames must be coming from and leapt over the tube.

X saw him coming and raised a buster. _Not this time!_ Rather than wait for his arc to complete, Zero curved his body as if to somersault, then fired his boosters forward. He came in like a dive-bomber, his saber extended as if it were a rapier.

The saber cut into X's right arm. It was a shallow wound; X's astonishing reflexes saved it from being anything too debilitating. Nevertheless, the size of the slash meant it would take a long time to repair, and it would noticeably weaken the arm. Even X's improvised close-combat was out of the question now.

X dashed away. Zero landed harshly on the ground—the maneuver had forced him to abandon his feet—so he settled for shooting X in his weaker rear armor. X cried out in pain but continued to open range. While he was preoccupied juking follow-up shots that never came, Zero regained his footing. X turned in time to see Zero dash forward again.

Zero realized too late X had been charging his buster while he fled. Zero's forward momentum made dodging impossible. Zero blocked his body with both arms. Their thick armor protected him from the worst of the damage. X didn't relent. He followed up with lesser shots.

Zero blocked the first few, but knew this couldn't last. He dropped his guard, surrendering a free hit to X, and began to return fire.

Plasma pelted the two robots, burning into armor, blackening paint, knocking each one back ever so slightly. Their large legs were set against such impacts, so only the swaying of their torsos hinted at the force they were sustaining. The firepower they unloaded into each other would have shredded squads of combat-equipped reploids. Yet they didn't stop, or dodge, or even flinch. Neither backed down or gave any thought to defense. Pain could be endured, damage could be controlled, but there could be no excuse for failing to hurt the enemy when the chance was given.

Zero grew gradually more horrified.

_He wouldn't stop!_ X had started with a slight advantage, having inflicted more damage before the clinch began, but Zero's superior construction was beginning to tell. X didn't seem to care. His face was set like it was cast in titanium rather than emotive like-flesh. No punishment Zero dealt seemed to faze him. Zero's nets were flooding with alarms as his armor began to give, especially around his lean waist. If the same was happening to X, he gave no sign of it.

Zero's gaze was drawn to X's face. There was not a trace of doubt or fear—just the resolve of the mountains. Zero had thought himself committed to his cause. He felt himself wavering in comparison when he looked at that visage. In hatred and envy he fired his next shot at X's face. It hit the right side. Like-flesh burned away, adding a horrible stench of burned skin to the ozone stink of the room. From the nose over, X's face resembled a metal skull—the robot undisguised.

The blow didn't stop X for even one shot. The next strike hit Zero's abdomen yet again, causing the red robot to bend forward slightly. He couldn't stand against that. He dashed away, breaking the face-off, and hid behind the birth tube a second time.

Zero's eyes were wide. He knew, more than anyone, that X had his many weaknesses. He was famous for vacillating and worrying and wallowing in guilt. Was this the same robot? Zero had told X that Zero was different since discovering his birth lab. It seemed like X was, too—he'd become some sort of juggernaut. Zero had to bite down rising panic. There was no way this was the same robot that had proclaimed friendship! What could have driven him to the point where he didn't seem to care if he died?

"Come on, Zero," X called. "You wanted this, didn't you? This was your choice, and mine."

Anger swept through Zero at X's words. "Yes, this _is_ my choice! I'm the better robot and mine's the better cause!"

"Show me."

Zero emerged from behind his cover. X was standing where Zero had left him. "You've got some nerve, X! Calling me out when you're dancing to my tune, coming here when I called you! You're still as spineless as ever!"

"You told me you were different, Zero. I am, too. You've seen it, haven't you?"

The remark gave Zero pause. The red robot felt the future slipping out of his control. Things were supposed to be simple! Why had he done this if not for simplicity's sake? He knew what X was, knew what he was capable of, knew how he would act—so why had the script gone so wrong? How could he withstand Zero's conviction and fire? What was happening? X was standing there with his wounded face, his suddenly mismatched eyes staring with the same steady look in them, and nothing Zero had done had made him waver in the slightest. Zero took a half-step back from the pressure of the gaze alone.

There was only one solution. When things were complicated, you cut through them until they were simple again. And if you fought something that didn't care if it died, you killed it. Zero reached over both shoulders and grabbed both sabers. "This is the end!" he shouted as he flung the two weapons.

They spun across the room. The blades sliced through the air on a horizontal plane. They covered too much ground to avoid by dodging side-to-side. X would have to jump over them. Zero raised his buster to catch X when he did. The blow would knock X to the ground, Zero would close the distance and finish the—

X was moving _forward_.

Zero realized too late what was happening. X was accepting the blow! But he was controlling it. By dashing forward and twisting, he took the saber hit only shallowly, in the location of X's choosing. The saber dug a groove down X's torso, but never deeply enough to cause internal damage. And now he was past the sabers, still on the ground, and Zero's buster was pointing up, too high, and with upward momentum he couldn't bring it down in time to catch the blue robot in his crosshairs, and Zero understood in a flash how subtly and completely X had manipulated him, and Zero's sensors blared a useless but terrifying warning as he detected the spiking energy levels in X's arm…

The charged shot hit Zero in the abdomen, in the center of the pattern X had patiently and deliberately formed with his previous attacks. Normally Zero could have withstood such a blow, but the armor there was weakened. The center couldn't hold when it wasn't connected to the perimeter. It gave way, and the large plasma ball surged on, diminished in power but still ravenous. It burned and smashed and tore its way into Zero's internal workings, through cables and circuit boards and supports and actuators and then, as Zero bent over double, it hit his back armor from a direction the armor was never supposed to be struck from.

Zero fell to the ground.

Zero's pelvis and legs hit the ground in a separate location.

Zero could see only ceiling as his head smashed against the floor. He raised his head as his tactical subroutine demanded. He could see X still standing there! He could get a shot off, maybe, from this posture…

Damage assessment countermanded that. The harm was far worse than expected. The energy surge had burned out most of Zero's internal protections and circuit-breakers. His power distribution system was a mess. Concentrating power for a shot would risk blowing out the whole system.

He lowered his arm. With surprise, he noted that X had already lowered his. He slumped back. Of course. If X had really wanted to keep fighting, it would have been too easy to fire a shot into Zero's exposed midsection. It would have killed him instantly. Zero was in X's power, now.

"I win," X said, unnecessarily.

Zero shook his head. "But… how? You're weaker than I am! And you couldn't match my conviction! So how? How could you beat me?"

"You still don't fully understand me, Zero. You have a weakness, you see—you and virtually all reploids. You get tunnel-vision. When you decide on a course of action, you begin to think that no other course is possible. You never consider accepting a "bad" choice that might have other consequences.

"You could have recognized that before the fight. Think of all the times you said there was no choice in matters. You could see only one way out. I'm different. I knew I could have chosen not to fight. I elected to. That put me in control of my own destiny. I could fight the way I wanted to. I could explore different ways of doing things. You couldn't understand that, so you couldn't combat it.

"That's why, when you threw the sabers, you never considered that I might go between them. Going over would avoid all damage, whereas going between would incur damage. One was a better choice than the other, so there was no choice. But I saw that there was. I could understand what was going to happen and what you were trying to do. And I could accept another course.

"I'm always thinking of alternatives and other outcomes. You've made fun of me for that, haven't you? I always seem of two or more minds about everything. Did you ever wonder what might happen if all of that will ever united? If the different parts of me that valued different things ever focused themselves on a single goal? I've honed my strength of will by fighting myself over everything. Torturous? Maybe. But you've seen what happens when I can bring it all together. Never underestimate my conviction again, Zero.

"And one thing more. I've responded to duty's call. It's forced me to become something more than I was. You, on the other hand, gave up your will. You surrendered to what you thought were things beyond your control. When you did that, you became something less than you were. That, Zero, was the difference between us."

Zero closed his eyes. "X, I… I doubted you too much, didn't I? I thought you couldn't possibly be right about anything… and even if you could be right, I never thought you'd have a strong enough heart to fight me for it… I'm sorry…" He sighed. "Well, kill me quickly. Powerlessness doesn't suit me."

"I didn't come here to kill you, Zero. I would have if I had to, but I was hoping to avoid it. You are my friend." He gave a breathless laugh. "And even if I did, there's still Sigma to deal with."

That's when the laughter came to them, emerging from a handful of speakers and reverberating in the small room.

* * *

"Zero," X said casually while the laughter continued, "where's this place's control room?"

"Open control room," Zero commanded. A door on the opposite side of the room from the elevator revealed itself. It was pock-marked with blasts from missed shots during the duel, but the double-strength armor had held up. The door opened as requested.

"Control room?" came the voice both X and Zero recognized. "That will avail you nothing, X. It's time to come face me."

X turned to Zero. "You didn't do a very thorough job cleaning this place up, did you?" The red robot shrugged sheepishly.

"Don't judge Zero too harshly, X. I blocked off all signs that there was a lower floor. I even made it seem as if the construction controls went to nowhere, when in fact they were busily building my magnificent new body. I couldn't have Zero interfering before you two met your destiny, hm? But I needn't have worried, really, as focused as he was on you."

"Of course," X said. "I don't blame him. It was my plan, too—to deal with Zero first. Because for all your evil, you're a lesser enemy… Sigma."

"Lesser? Say that to my face, X. I will show you who is lesser."

X walked into the control room. He moved to the control console. It was unfamiliar in many ways, but he was intelligent and knew what he was looking for. "Not quite yet. I have to satisfy my curiosity first."

"By all means. Understand that if you try to run, I'll wind up shooting you in the back."

"I have no intention of running. I'll face you. But first, let me tell you a story. Cut me off if it stops sounding familiar. After Repliforce was destroyed, removing a force that might have stood in your way, you wanted to immediately start the Fifth War. But your forces were too weak. They were too few. You'd been defeated four times at great expense, and that made it awfully hard to recruit new followers. You had a hard-core, sure, and they were the most devoted of the bunch, but they weren't enough to overthrow the whole order, like you almost did in the First War.

"So what did you do? You started organizing them for something smaller. Dispersed operations in many places. The idea wasn't to overthrow the order, but to strain it, to stress it everywhere. It wasn't what you wanted, but it was all you could do. Sound about right so far?"

"You are ever so clever, X, if pathetically naïve. You were always able to comprehend, but never anticipate. You couldn't bring yourself to believe that anyone would do what I have done… until reality forced you to change your mind."

"I'll take that as a compliment. You'd been researching Zero for a long time, ever since he drove you to the brink while only half-awake. Your investigations led you here, where you learned everything you'd wanted to know. You understood at that point that he would never join you. He's too independent and his motivations just couldn't line up with yours. That didn't mean he couldn't be an instrument, but first you'd have to split him from the Hunters."

"Ah, you tedious Hunters! You didn't deserve to have such a magnificent specimen as Zero in your ranks. His proper place was amongst the Mavericks. I was merely restoring the natural order."

"How to split him, though? You needed to make him feel emotions he was ill-equipped to handle. You needed to add stress. You needed to drive us to extremes. So you created an extreme situation. You used a remote-control body to initiate a communications blackout. When Zero responded, you used your knowledge of his body and mine to isolate him for a few seconds. It lasted just long enough to dangle this place in front of Zero's eyes and plant the seed of doubt. Then, to apply confusion and panic, you had one of your followers sabotage Eurasia, ordered the rest to black out the communications system, and released a new virus to pile on."

"You really have figured it out, haven't you? Most never did. They always focused on what would happen when Eurasia hit. But the goal was never for Eurasia to land, merely for it to fall. Those meddling Maverick Hunters would be there to save the day, like the heroes they are! And I was right, of course. You succeeded. I would have been in quite a bad position if you'd failed. But you wouldn't let yourselves fail. Along the way, you behaved with a ruthlessness I almost envy. Bravo, X!"

"The crisis itself was the goal," X said, unperturbed by the voice's words. "What you actually wanted was to force the Hunters to make themselves the bad guys. The Hunters were all that kept a lid on Maverick-human fighting. If you made it so no one trusted them anymore, the social order would disintegrate completely. It would have the welcome side effect of making Zero leave the Hunters."

"I couldn't afford to let you and Zero fight on the same side again. I'm sure you understand why. Of course, I didn't expect that he would create Reploid Nation on his own! How marvelous! He's taken my plans even further along than I could have hoped. Now it's simple. All I have to do is kill the two of you and claim my role as leader of the Nation, and my victory will be complete."

"You think that, don't you? Have you looked out there, Sigma? There are humans and robots up there, Sigma, standing side-by-side. They're not fighting. They don't think violence is inevitable. They're worried about Zero and me. Do you really think murdering us is the way to win their loyalty?"

"Win their loyalty? Ha! I don't need their loyalty. When I get up there I'll incinerate the humans, along with any reploid who stands with them. Then I'll take charge of Reploid Nation and rule by default. It will be so, so easy."

"That's what you think!" X said. Overtones of anger appeared in his voice.

"Oh, it's reality! That's the reality you refuse to acknowledge, and why I was always going to win. Force works, X! The reason you've held me back is not that you're _right_. It's that you're _strong_. You can't win by becoming more righteous, only by becoming more powerful."

"It's not true!" screamed X. His fingers flew across the keyboard.

"Ha ha! You well-meaning but hopeless fool. You have done everything I could have asked for, and now you're in the palm of my hand. My new body is more powerful than any previous, while you are wounded from fighting Zero. I will make him wait while I deal with you. I'll torture him with the knowledge that you are dying and he can't stop it!"

"You scum!"

"Friendship is such a liability, isn't it? You should have killed him already, X. In the end, it will bring both of you to your deaths!"

"Shut up!" X killed the internal communications circuit.

* * *

Sigma smiled in cruel satisfaction. He would have been surprised to know that X was also smiling.

* * *

X left the control room behind. Reviewing his visual logs, he remembered seeing a slight seam in the elevator's control panel. Armed with new knowledge, he decided someone had removed the original and imperfectly welded in a replacement. The controls to take him one more floor down were surely still there. A little hot-wiring presented no challenge to someone who had worked at Dr. Cain's elbows.

He walked through the birth lab. He tried not to look at the scorched, red body parts that still lay on the floor. He went into the elevator.

"X," he heard. He stopped the elevator doors and looked at Zero. He forced his eyes to remain locked on Zero's. Looking anywhere else would have been as rude as it was macabre.

"Listen, I know I have no right to speak to you," Zero began, very tentatively.

"You've always had the right to bend my ear," X said.

"You and those human clichés," Zero said with a slight shake of his head. It almost derailed him; speaking clearly took some willpower. "If… you could do me a favor?"

"Shoot," X said, regretting it even as the word left his lips.

Zero winced, but went on. "I never… it wasn't my plan to hurt anyone, really. All I wanted was… well, all I really wanted was justice, but, failing that… I would have settled for just making reploids' lives better. That's okay, right? There's nothing wrong with that. But if Sigma wins… he won't just exterminate the humans. Someone who can decide, on his own, that a whole sentient species is garbage can't be trusted to rule anything. He'll grind the reploids down, too. That's just the sort of person he's become."

A frown came across Zero's face. X understood how hard it was for the ex-Hunter to speak, and made no response. His patience seemed to irritate Zero more. "I know you would be fighting him anyway. I wish I could, too. I _hate_ him. But I can't, so..."

Zero pursed his lips impatiently, as if his words offended him. "What I'm _saying_, X, is… go kick Sigma's ass."

X gave a wan smile. He mock-saluted, and held that posture as the elevator doors closed.

* * *

_Next time: Fortissimo- The Last One Standing_


	14. Fortissimo-- The Last One Standing

"Dr. Cain?"

"Douglas," the human replied with some surprise. "What's on your mind?"

"I've been meaning to ask you this for a while," the mechanic said. "Did you have any idea Sigma would become… what he is?"

"You mean a genocide-minded monster? You don't have to tread lightly with me, Douglas."

"Well, there it is, then," Douglas said uncomfortably. "I'm just curious if there was any… indication. Any precursor."

"Thinking like a mechanic, eh?"

Douglas nodded. "When I look at machinery, I can see fatigue and wear and know that a component is losing integrity. It's not perfect—sometimes a standard-looking part can give on you without warning if it's exposed to new conditions—but it's pretty reliable. What about Sigma?"

"Parts aren't people."

"I know that," Douglas said defensively. "I'm not so awkward that I haven't noticed that. I just thought… you know, since he's a reploid… maybe there was some way to tell?"

"But that's just it," Dr. Cain said. "I'm sure there have been reploids who've gone Maverick because of some flaw in their systems. Sigma just isn't one of those. His core was perfect, right from the beginning. That's why I named him that, did you know? Sigma is the unit for standard deviation. All throughout the construction and initialization phases, every single one of his parameters fell right in the middle of the acceptable values. Not a one was even a single sigma out."

"He's the best of us, huh?" said Douglas.

His tone of voice, more than his words, annoyed Dr. Cain. The roboticist shook his head. "Don't go thinking that perfect construction means perfect being. Nothing could be further from the truth. No human ever got away with a crime by blaming his genes. That's the whole point of reploids—that they choose their own fates. I've had the devil's own time convincing people of that fact, especially when X himself became such a paragon. 'It's because he was built by Dr. Light, that's why he's so perfect!' Bah. X could just as easily have become a Maverick, just as Sigma could have remained a loyal Hunter. Things just didn't… turn out."

Douglas was momentarily at a loss. He searched for something to say—until he glimpsed something in Dr. Cain's face. The human was looking beyond Douglas. "Now that I think of it," he said in vacant tones, "he did ask me something, once. I was talking about the capabilities he'd been endowed with. He listened attentively for a while, but then he cut me off. He asked me, 'Am I just a doll to you?' 'Never,' I told him. 'Never to me.' 'But to others?' 'Perhaps,' I answered, 'but they're wrong.'"

Dr. Cain huffed. "I guess he didn't believe me, eh? Not that I think it would have made too much difference," he added hastily. "Conversations like that aren't defining moments, and he didn't become a Maverick for a long time after that. Still… I have wondered, at times…"

Douglas shifted anxiously. "I guess that's something I'll never experience," he said. "I'll never have that level of personal investment in another being. I can't imagine what it must be like. When I fix or build something, I have lots of confidence in what it's going to do. I know how it'll perform because I know how I built it. You, on the other hand…"

"Anything could happen. And we have to take the bad with the good. Tanstaafl."

"Tan—huh?"

"There ain't no such thing as a free lunch."

"…that's a double negative."

"That's humanity for you. Our wisdom and our foolishness are inextricably linked."

The pensive expression returned to Dr. Cain's face. Douglas tried to put himself in the human's position. "Have you ever wondered if… if Sigma might change his mind? If he might… repent, I guess? I mean, if we can get Zero back, we want to. Even after all he's done—which hasn't really been that much. So if Zero says he's sorry, maybe does some things to prove he's sincere, he could be a Hunter again. Right?"

"That's for other people than us to decide."

"I don't see why he couldn't," Douglas said. "So, if he can come back… have you ever tried talking to Sigma? You're like his father, after all, you made him personally. That has to mean something."

"I assure you, it's irrelevant to him. He's the one who declared war on me. Us," he amended quickly.

Douglas noticed the misstep and didn't press on it. "I suppose it's impossible at this point, after all he's done. Way too many crimes, way too many wars, way too much… everything. There comes a point when you can't repair something no matter how much you try. I know that, but… I think I see in you… that you wish you could."

Dr. Cain gave the smallest of chuckles. "Don't ever grow old, Douglas. You get regretful. I never was, when I was younger. I can feel the bite of it now though. And yet, at the same time, I know it never would have worked. He would have killed me for even trying. Because once he made up his mind, compromise became impossible."

"Impossible? That's a strong word."

"But apt. To a certain point of view, compromise is weakness. If ever Sigma has been consistent about something, it's that he can't stand weakness. Imperfection offends him. At this point in his life, he only knows one way to deal with weakness."

Dr. Cain drew a single finger across his throat.

* * *

Sigma stepped away from the construction gantry. There had been capacity here for building the largest robots, capacity just waiting for a new master with vision enough to use it. He'd had to modernize some of the equipment, but it had served its purpose nicely. He flexed his hands. The feeling of power was glorious.

This new body was, in appearance, quite similar to his old. It was humanoid, bore his usual face, boasted broad shoulders, and was round with prominent pseudomuscles in the abdomen. The most obvious difference was size. Sigma was now a titan of his own making. His hands were large enough to hold X's entire body, arms, legs, and all. He indulged in a feral grin. That was a good idea, wasn't it? To leave X's head exposed while he squeezed his body. The screaming would be delicious…

The elevator announced X's arrival. Sigma took another step forward. The ground shook. His head nearly scraped the ceiling.

Sigma would enjoy this.

* * *

The elevator announced to X that he had arrived. He took a moment to assess the situation. His self-repair had been very busy and had made at least rudimentary fixes to most systems. The cost was that he was running somewhat low on energy. He had enough for weapons and movement, provided the battle didn't go for long, but there was nothing left to spare for repairs. Any additional damage was likely to be semi-permanent.

He'd made no effort to try and repair the like-flesh on his face. He didn't have the proper materials in any event. It left his visage gruesome, he admitted, but there were times and places to worry about that. This was neither the time nor the place.

Sigma wouldn't care how he looked.

He nodded to himself. "I've got to settle the score. One… last… time."

He stepped through the elevator and looked over his foe. One thing you could always say for Sigma—he was never hard to find.

"Ho-ho! Do you like it, X? Doesn't it fill you with awe?" The voice boomed out from a vocal processor sized to the same dimensions as the rest of him. The giant couldn't fully extend its arms to the side, it took up so much of the room.

X scratched his head. "How were you planning to get out from underground with a body like that?"

"Details, details. I'll smash my way out! I don't care what obstacle is in my way. This body is totally invincible. No weapon can penetrate its armor. And with this much firepower, I can defeat any number of enemies that might try to stop me. It's game over, X!"

Sigma extended his hands forwards. "Die, insect!"

From his fingertips, bolts of power raced towards X's location. Each one had been carefully calibrated as a result of Sigma's obsessive research. A direct hit would be able to punch through X's armor and gut his internal systems. They made a mess of the floor when they hit, sublimating some of the metal and sending fountains of dirt into the air. This was more than just aesthetically pleasing; each shot made the arena smaller and cut off more of X's space to maneuver.

These spectacular pyrotechnics almost resulted in Sigma losing track of X's location. The Hunter had dashed forward to avoid and retaliated with a charged shot to Sigma's leg. The impact didn't even register with Sigma, nor did a second shot into one of Sigma's palms.

Sigma could hardly restrain his glee. This body was magnificent! He was impervious to X's attacks, leaving him with the luxury to give the Hunter a fitting demise. He moved his hands out of the way so that his head had an unobstructed view of X. The gem on Sigma's forehead whined for a moment. The broad blast of energy that followed would have turned a city bus into ash and slag.

This time, Sigma _did_ lose track of X. Only for a moment—and when the moment ended, he saw X pushing off from the wall at the same height as Sigma's head. Sigma brought a hand up to swat the puny robot. X's motions were impossibly quick. He used the encroaching hand as another surface to jump from, rebounded off the wall, and sprang at Sigma's face even faster than before.

The charged shot that hit Sigma's forehead jewel was an unexpected and loathsome surprise. But it didn't hurt him, and it wouldn't for a while. Sigma had done the math and knew it would take fifteen more shots like that to get through—an impossible demand against a body such as this. He saw where X was going to land, charged the jewel again, and unleashed another broad-area blast.

When X reappeared in Sigma's vision, he was in a different area altogether. Sigma's analysis subroutine was at a loss to explain how the robot had dodged an attack that took up almost the whole area of the floor.

Sigma had programmed extra algorithms into his targeting system. His database of X's battles was extensive, and the algorithms were supposed to use that data to refine his targeting system's solutions. They weren't working or the Hunter would have been garbage by now. Angrily, Sigma disabled them.

It didn't matter, not when X couldn't hurt him. All it did was delay the inevitable. Sigma took a shallow step back for extra space and let fly with both hands, one finger after another, a sustained barrage to corner and annihilate the Hunter. X dodged back and forth, back and forth, avoiding the new craters that Sigma was creating. To Sigma's growing irritation, he seemed to be getting faster with every dash. No matter. He would run out of floor soon. To speed it along, Sigma powered up his gem for another go. X might be able to dance, sure, but to avoid an attack like this…

X cut a path through the dust and flame, leaving silhouettes from his passage. Before Sigma could retarget, the Hunter leapt up and landed on the back of Sigma's hand. Sigma turned his hand over to flip X off, but the Hunter was already airborne. Sigma didn't have time to smile, though he wanted to. With X suspended in air, surely now there was no way the jewel could miss—

Except that X's shot came in first and cracked the weapon's jeweled front end. Automatic safeties cut in to cancel the shot and drain power from the weapon. Two shots! X's weapons were so primitive it should have taken fourteen more after that one! Sigma, furious, flailed at X with both hands. The blows buffeted the blue speck but never connected with any real pressure, as if he were a large blue gnat. X touched lightly on the ground. Sigma let fly another stream of attacks from his hands. He could repair the jewel, just give him a little time, just…

And now X was moving so fast Sigma had trouble following him. The blur of blue leapt between Sigma's arms. Sigma reflexively rotated them so X couldn't land. X didn't mean to. He ricocheted from one to the other, bouncing back and forth like a pinball. When he reached the shoulders, he landed briefly on Sigma's collar before leaping in front of his face. Another charged shot—Sigma's sensors briefly registered that it had the highest output yet—tore through the forehead jewel and annihilated the weapon inside.

Sigma staggered backwards as X fell the long distance back down to earth. Sigma tried to kick him, but the motion was doomed before it even began.

_How could this be happening?_

"What's going on, X?" Sigma demanded. "I've watched your battle performances very carefully, and I've gone over your specs in great detail. I know exactly what you're capable of doing. That's how I designed this armor—specifically to beat you! What trickery is this?"

"There's no trick," X answered in conversational tones. "Just an act of will. Sigma, do you know why our designers give us limits? Engineering-wise, I mean. There are a couple of reasons. Sometimes it's a hard limit—more stress than this, and a component gives. But those are rare. Most limits are because the components have a range where they may or may not break. You're guaranteed to get good performance up to a point, and beyond that you're taking ever-greater risks. And some limits are to prevent long-term failure. You're not supposed to cross a limit because it'll wear the part out faster, or it'll put extra stress on the rest of the system."

Sigma's self-repair system reported that the forehead jewel was irreparable. Sigma could deal with that. It was unfortunate, but X couldn't inflict any more damage that way; the weapon was back-stopped by more armor, so Sigma's all-important processors would be safe. Still, to think the insect had harmed him, even a little…

"Well, thanks to you and Zero, I've spent five wars finding just where my limits are. I've explored them and discovered which ones are there for which purposes. I'm now in total control of my body. I know my true capabilities. They're not what my schematics say they are. They're what _I_ say they are!"

X seemed to grow brighter in Sigma's vision. The jewel on X's forehead was pulsing rapidly. Sigma detected an unprecedented amount of energy emanating from the Hunter, as if his power distribution system was letting his whole reserve go at once. Sigma felt an unwelcome thrill of fear.

"Fighting Zero was hard. That was a test of conviction. Fighting you is a test of strength. That's easy. You made a big mistake, this time. You assumed that my capabilities were fixed. I am X, Sigma! I am variable! You have no idea just how powerful I really am. Here's a taste."

With a snarl, Sigma pointed his hands at X again. He never got the chance to fire. This time X was so fast his motions barely registered in Sigma's optics. Sigma stumbled as he tried to follow X's path, but the Hunter was already behind him. A leap, a bounce from a wall, and X was level with the back of Sigma's knee.

"You've committed a lot of crimes, Sigma. It's time to start paying for them. This one's for Eurasia!"

The back of Sigma's knee was not solid armor—it couldn't be and be flexible as a joint needs to be. It was segmented to allow for more natural motion. X's targeting system focused with impossible accuracy on the miniscule gap between segments. The buster was too large a tool for this. Most of the blast would be deflected by armor. The F-Laser, on the other hand, focused all of its cutting power onto the exact location X wanted to hit. A crack appeared in Sigma's defenses—small, but real.

"This one's for Repliforce!"

X fired his boosters to dash forward and punched in with the Frost Tower. There was precious little moisture in the air here, but what there was accumulated around X's fist like a spike. X drove that spike into the chink he'd made with the F-Laser.

There was no way the ice was hard enough to penetrate armor. It didn't need to be. The real weapon was the cold itself. Sigma's armor cooled rapidly, contracting and becoming brittle; the sudden change in temperature from burning hot to freezing cold caused the metal to experience thermal shock. The crack from the F-Laser rapidly expanded as the armor split apart. The gash was now visible.

"This one's for Dopplertown!"

X recoiled backwards from his hit. A boost kept him airborne and at the right height. He was running critically low on raw resources to make projectiles, but he could spare enough for a Tunneling Missile. The tip of the missile plunged into the gap in Sigma's armor. The brittle armor surrounding the chink cracked and shattered. For almost two seconds the missile bored deeper and deeper and deeper into the gap, wedging itself close to Sigma's vitals. When it exploded on its timer, the internal components of Sigma's knee were left exposed and unprotected.

"This one's for your evils against reploids!"

Recoil from the missile had knocked X back towards the wall. He sprang from it again, mostly upwards, putting him back in firing position. The Sonic Slicer made mincemeat of vulnerable wires and internal structures. Sigma's knee buckled as it was hollowed out.

"This one's for all the humans you've hurt!"

X hurled himself forward with yet another boost even as his legs screamed at the torture he was putting them through. When he made contact, the Electric Spark fried every electrical system between Sigma's heel and his hip. It happened so fast there was no hope that Sigma could remain standing. Internal systems braced for impact as his balance vanished.

The colossus toppled backwards, smashing to the ground on its back. X, of course, avoided the fall completely, and ended up in the air directly above Sigma's head. Fear swept over Sigma's face—and fear on a face that large is highly visible.

"This one's for Zero!"

X had used this weapon exactly once, and it had inflicted so much damage on his own systems he'd sworn never to use it again, but what the hell. His left arm wouldn't be able to handle it, so he reproduced Zero's beam saber with his right arm alone. Sigma raised his hands to protect himself. X copied and modified the move Zero had used on him—a half somersault followed by a boost to create a vertical down-dive. X shot between Sigma's hands before they could close on him.

He buried the beam saber in Sigma's eye. Down, down, down he drilled, through screaming metal and vaporized plastics and burning insulation and wildly sparking electrics. With all of his power and weight behind him, he forced the saber so deeply into Sigma's skull that he connected with vital processors.

Sigma screamed as X began to kill his brain.

X's arms were never supposed to support that much output. He pushed himself until his arm's circuitry threatened to burn up before he turned off the saber. He sprang off of Sigma's face. It lolled lifelessly in X's direction. Sigma's arms dropped to his sides. Cacophony ruled for a moment as tons of metal crashed and banged. X waited for the reverberations to die down. His gaze never left the muscle-bound giant.

Sigma's functioning eye was focused solely on X. X knew he had Sigma's complete attention. "There's one more," X said softly. "You've put me through five wars' worth of misery and pain. Revenge is a nasty thing, and on the whole I think it's beneath me, but just this once, I'll indulge myself.

"So here's one more, Sigma. This one's for me."

"Heh heh… you really are the pride of the Hunters," Sigma replied. "Somehow you've even beaten this magnificent body. But it doesn't matter. I will never die. I'll just come back again and again. As long as reploids and humans are killing each other, I will always have a place in this world."

"Which is why I will kill you now," X said. "I will build a world of peace with my own hands. You have no place there. It's time for you to die."

Sigma's functioning eye rolled back in its socket—then snapped back to X. "What have you done?!" he screamed.

"You weren't always this careless, Sigma," X said. "You cheated death often enough that you convinced yourself you were immortal. That made you complacent. What do you think I was doing up there in that command room? Hiding? Playing for time? I was cutting off the base's lines of communication. I left you nothing to tap into. And you can't use that body's transmitters either. Remember, this was a hidden base for Dr. Wily. It was supposed to never be found. It's impervious to any signal of any kind. You've got no way to transmit your persona out of that body. You're trapped in it."

X advanced slowly on his enemy. "There will be no escape, this time. There's no fallback base or reserve body. Nowhere to run. This time, you die for real."

Sigma's face showed that he appreciated the prospect for the first time. He did not take it gracefully. "Now hold on, X," he protested vainly. "We can be reasonable about this. You can't kill me! I surrender!"

"Funny thing, but I'm not taking prisoners today."

"You have to take me into custody, don't you? So that there can be a trial!"

"No, I think the facts in this case are fairly well-known."

"Your conscience won't let you kill someone who's unarmed."

There was something very nearly approaching hate, barely contained in X's voice, when he replied, "Don't _you_ dare tell _me_ about my conscience. Come on, Sigma. I thought you were made of sterner stuff. All the other times we fought you had nothing but contempt for me. You were awfully brave when you knew you couldn't die. It's amazing what changes when death is real."

"Wait! Don't you believe in mercy?!"

X stopped still. "As a matter of fact, I do," he said.

Sigma was suspended. For a moment, he dared to hope.

X raised his arm. "But not for you," he added.

The charged shot went into Sigma's skull through the hole made by the saber.

Sigma's body went dead. All signs of life vanished.

The fight was over.

* * *

Zero listened most attentively to all that was said. He struggled to move and he couldn't fight, but his hearing was working just fine.

Oh, _no!_ Surely X realized…?

* * *

_Next time: Finale- Rebirth_


	15. Finale-- Rebirth

_This is the last chapter of the story. My sincere thanks to everyone who has read thus far. Next week I will publish an addendum with comments and thoughts on the story, but for all intents and purposes, this is the end._

* * *

X rode the elevator back up with some amount of elation. He felt like he was seeing the sun break through a sky that had been overcast for years. He hadn't realized how much of a burden Sigma had been until the monster was gone. Yet the sudden lightness made it real for him.

It was over.

Finally… finally… it was over. Sigma was dead. He would start no more wars. That didn't mean there wouldn't be any more wars, but the person who most loved them and was most willing to use them was gone. That had to count for something.

X grimaced. Of course, he'd torn his body apart doing it. He really had pushed past his limits, and like he'd told Sigma, those limits were there for some good reasons. His legs ached with every motion and every shift of balance. His right arm twitched—he'd damaged the control systems when he'd copied the Z-saber—and resisted his control. X held it with his left to keep it from flopping about.

He stepped out of the elevator. Walking hurt. It wasn't that bad, though. It hurt less when it was Zero he was walking towards.

"You idiot!"

X stopped. "Zero?" he asked.

"Why were you so sloppy, now of all times? There's one more system Sigma could run to!"

As X's eyes opened widely, a mechanical arm punched upward from the floor below. It brought down the floor around X. X's gyros complained at him as weightlessness took him—for a moment. As gravity claimed him, he tumbled back down into Sigma's reconstruction room.

Disorientation held him in its grip for a moment before his eyes fell on the source of his danger. X had thought that the gantry on the far side of the room was nothing more than a framework. But no—he could see now that it was a robot in its own right. Which meant that, if it was properly receptive, it could play host to Sigma…

The gantry was alive and had rolled to X on wheels X hadn't even noticed. Its many arms waved wildly. They held a variety of construction tools that X had viewed as benign. No longer—he sensed malice, and that made every tool appear as a weapon.

"Xxxxxxx," it hissed.

It was dumb, X realized. The gantry was at least a hundred years old. Sigma had fled there as a last resort, and his program was too much for such a limited system. He'd lost most of his mind in the transfer. All that was left was raw hate and murderous intent.

Sigma had thrown everything away for one final act of spite.

X flailed in midair, his balance gone. He tried to boost, but his right leg—fatigued before the fight and overstressed during it—refused. X smashed into the floor of the room. The shock stunned him. Before he could recover, a large mechanical claw swooped down on him. Its pincers dug into the floor on either side and pinned him in place. Another arm appeared above X's trapped form. At the end of the arm was a blinding-bright welding torch.

"Dieeeee, Xxxxxxxx!"

* * *

Zero closed his eyes. He knew what needed to be done. He knew what it would cost.

It was hard. As hard a thing as any he'd done.

There was no time for self-pity. He steeled himself to his task. "Control room, open," he commanded.

It was a lucky thing. Construction system controls were on the wall opposite the door, perhaps so they could be operated while design work was done on the main screen. The gantry had interfaces in the room below, but its brain was in the control room…

With the power fluctuations Zero was having, even as simple an act as drawing a good bead was difficult. His arm wavered as he extended it. He shut one eye and redirected the sparse power allocated to senses to the other. Good enough.

Charging up sent overload warnings coursing through his nets. He suppressed them. He had only one chance. He couldn't afford distractions.

His aim was true.

* * *

X's wince slowly relaxed as death failed to arrive. He hazarded opening one eye, then the other. The torch was silent. So was the entire gantry. Sigma's last gasp had expired.

It took a while for X to dig himself free of the claw. His body wouldn't cooperate and the claw was quite strong. His slow progress just made X more frantic. He knew what had to have happened. He had to get back to Zero.

If his body had been in any sort of shape, he would have found a way to boost himself through the hole in the ceiling. As it was, he had to take the elevator, which moved intolerably slowly.

The doors opened. "Zero! Are you alright?" X cried.

He rushed towards the helpless torso. It didn't move. It was smoking gently. "Zero! Talk to me!"

"I'm glad you survived, X," said Zero without moving.

"Never mind me, what about you?" X demanded.

"…listen, X. Forget about me."

"Forget? Never!" X shook his head. "Why won't you move, Zero? Why won't you move?"

Zero's voice was small. "Because I've lost motor control, X. And that's just the start."

X began to lift Zero's body. His own complained at the strain and tried to stop him. Zero slipped out of his grasp. "I've got to get you up-top, we have medics there, and Dr. Cain, and…"

"It's too late, X. That last shot fatally damaged my power distribution center. Every little fluctuation in me now is uncontrolled. My own awesome power is killing me, circuit by circuit."

"Then shut down!"

"That wouldn't stop it. I told you, it's too late. I'm already dead. And you won't be able to rebuild me this time. This will kill my brain."

X tried to find a straw to grasp. "But… your self-repair…"

"…is already inoperable. It's over, X. This is the end."

Zero's voice was so certain that X found he couldn't fight it. Reluctantly, X kneeled on the ground. He cradled Zero's body over one knee. He treated it with reverence and gentleness. "Zero, why?" he said. "Why did you do that?"

"I thought it was obvious," Zero said weakly. "Iris died in front of me. I couldn't bear to have something like that happen again. I had to save you."

"At the cost of your death? Zero, that's not worth it! I wanted you to live!"

"It's alright. We don't always get what we want. At least I did, at the very end."

"But why now?" X said bitterly. "It's so pointless! To die now, at the end, when we've come so far… when we've reached the start of the new world…"

"We're still friends," Zero said. His voice carried a tinge of wry amusement. "Through everything else, that still means something."

X sniffed audibly. "Friends to the end, huh?"

"X… I think it's alright. Now that I think about it, I believe… I believe I needed to die. I had to perish for there to be peace. We can't be competing centers of power, you and I. That's all we'd be after what I said and did. As long as we both lived, we'd split the world between us. The thing is, after fighting you and listening to you and watching you fight Sigma, I've made up my mind: you're the one the world needs. It doesn't need me any longer. I'm Zero, nothing more. But you're X. You're potentially infinite. That's what the world needs, now."

"Needs me?" X said. His voice shook, for Zero had deliberately struck a chord that resonated in X's heart. "I… I know that people are counting on me… but what about what I need? What about what I want? Doesn't that count for something?"

"Some dreams are possible, and some aren't. Iris taught me that. I'm sorry I had to die, I really am. That dream's gone. But there is a dream that you can make reality. You can make your world of reploids and humans together work. No one would imagine fighting you now. The whole world will look to you. You can make right the things that are wrong. You can act on the burning in your heart.

"You can do it, too. I know you can. You showed me your conviction. You've always had the beliefs, and you've always had strength. Use the confidence you gained from fighting me. Use the judgment you showed in killing Sigma. Now's your time. I'm sorry I won't be able to see it… because, X, I think you're going to be awesome."

Once, such words would have made X squirm in discomfort. Now they seemed, if anything, a mold to fit, or a shape to fill—one well within his capacity. "I'll do my best."

"I know you will." Zero made a sighing noise. "I'm sorry for fighting you, X. I was wrong—so wrong. I've made so many mistakes, and I never found out how I was supposed to make up for them. It was a price I had no idea how to pay. Don't begrudge me saving your life. It's the least I could do."

That old eccentric, Dr. Light, had gone and installed tear ducts in his final creation. Strangely, the one that welled up first was the one on his damaged, unvarnished, exposed right side. "I… I accept your… gift, Zero."

"That's better." Zero made a noise of relaxing—sound was having to take up all the burden normally shared by gesture and expression. "I've done so much wrong, X. Has my life been wasted? Is dying the only good thing I ever did?"

"Of course not," X said, but Zero's voice became more desperate all the same.

"X, you have to tell me. Only you would know! Do you… do you think that there's a soul, somewhere inside here? And if there is… am I going to Hell?"

"You? Never," X said sincerely. Tears were flowing freely now. "Never. You've done far too much good. You've meant too much to too many people. But if… if you did… I would chase after you. I would come and get you and drag you out, no matter what."

After a moment, Zero said, "You really mean that, don't you? Oh, X. I never deserved such a friend as you."

There was a particularly loud pop. "Are you okay," X started to ask, at the same time as Zero said, "Where'd you go?"

X tried to say something in response, but he couldn't get over Zero's panicked gibbering. "X, I don't see you! Where did you go? Say something!" They both realized about the same time. "I just lost my sensory center," Zero said. "It's so dark—it's so dark! X, please! I can't hear you!"

"I can't help you!" X said desperately.

"Shake me. I still have gyros. Shake me to tell me you're still here."

X did. Vigorously.

"Oh, good," Zero said, voice full of relief. "I was afraid… X, you can't believe how dark and cold I feel. I know I'm going to die. It won't be long. I just want to say—X! I want you to hear this! I didn't deserve a friend like you! And I'm glad you lived! But you have to take care of the reploids, now! I… I tried to do that. I tried to be that person, to be protector of the reploids. But I couldn't pull it off; I could never be that person. It has to be you, don't you see? It has to be you! And as hard as it is to say this, it always did! Protect them for me, X!"

"I understand you, Zero," X said to unhearing ears. He gave Zero a good shake by way of translation.

When Zero spoke again, he was no longer frantic. "That's it for me, then. I'm sorry, X, for being such a bother. But now it's time for me to go. I have to go see Iris. I should apologize to her, too, I think…"

Another crackle came from Zero's body. A gentle puff of acrid smoke followed. "Zero?" X asked, shaking the broken body. "Zero!"

No response was forthcoming. X hadn't expected one, but that expectation didn't make unfeeling reality any gentler.

Zero was dead.

* * *

"Hey! Something's happening!"

The news spread through the crowd like wildfire. Those who had backed away or sat down pressed in. Everyone wanted to see what came next. Without really meaning to, the reploids had gathered to one side, while the humans congregated on the other side. Between the two was the small Hunter delegation, with the command staff and Dr. Cain in front.

X did not return the way he'd departed. He'd gone in the fortified entrance. The true entrance was to the left, hidden in the shadows. He walked out from there. Rather than shift the crowd, he walked across the face of it and took a position in front of the main entrance. He said nothing and his movements were very small. The crowd could feel his exhaustion like an aura. His hand was clenched around something they couldn't fully see.

When he was centered on the crowd, X turned to face it. He folded slowly to his knees and rested on his feet. He seemed to barely notice the crowd. It was as if his mind was in another place.

Negative conversation had always been X's specialty—the drawing out of words and emotions through the use of silence. His deliberate actions sucked the crowd in and focused their attention. The crowd was noiseless, lest they miss something. While they waited, they noticed his injuries. His face drew the most attention. With the right side burned off, it seemed more than ever as if he was half robot, half human.

X spoke in a gentle voice, yet its tones carried over the crowd. "Sigma is dead." After a few seconds, he spoke again. "Zero is dead." This time he reached forward. He placed the beam saber he'd been holding on the ground in front of him. The crowd understood what it meant. X followed up by removing his helmet and placing it softly next to the hilt. His face screwed up with emotion. Normally it wouldn't have—he had excellent self-control in that regard. But he was learning. The crowd would see and understand what he was feeling, even if it required a little exaggeration. It conveyed true feelings. The emotions were real, and they could be used as a tool at the same time.

X bowed deeply. He pressed his forehead against the ground, as if to say to the crowd he couldn't bear to let his face be seen. He stayed like that until the whispers began to grow. When he sat up again, they died completely. No one would risk not hearing him. He would have preferred to remain kneeling, but he had to stand to help his voice reach everyone. His voice was no louder than before, yet there were few that couldn't hear him. "I have sinned," he said.

Every word was carefully enunciated. He would allow no misunderstanding this time. He waited long enough for his words to reach everyone. "I have done wrongs during the Fifth War. We all have. We were put into an impossible situation—and the disastrous possible happened. I can never replace the lives that I stole, neither those I killed nor those I let die. All I can do is live for them. All I can do is live a life they'd be proud of. I have to show them that they didn't die for nothing—and that I'm sorry.

"That is my pain, but I know I'm not alone. We all have felt pain, every single one of us. We have let ourselves be ruled by our pain, and when we do that we forget why we're feeling it. Pain is natural. Pain tells us when something threatens our survival. These wars—this constant fighting—threaten the survival of humans and reploids alike. Instead of trying to escape from pain, we must embrace it… and each other.

"Ultimately, Zero died because humans and reploids didn't trust each other. We couldn't figure out how to live in the same society. The only solution he could think of was segregation. But when I look at all of you, standing here together, I find my faith renewed. I know all of you trust me. I will take a chance and dare to trust all of you.

"So let's start over—here, now, at this spot where the old order failed," he said. "Humans and reploids, together, in peace. It's time for that dream to become reality.

"Believe in me."

The crowd understood. X had given everything. He'd staked his life on his beliefs, and had suffered for them. His heroism wasn't in the foes he'd vanquished. It was in the friends he'd lost. Yet here he was, still trying to weld two incompatible groups together.

They were putty in his hands.

He felt their sympathy. He felt them come to him. He felt them tremble, waiting for the next words. He felt the slightest motion and knew that it was the world ready to be moved.

And that was why he had enough audacity to do what needed to be done.

"I offer blanket amnesty to everyone who fought in the Fifth Maverick War," X said. "Human and robot alike. Hand in your weapons and make a full accounting of your crimes and all will be forgiven. Anyone who doesn't do both will be found out, and tried… for murder."

It took several seconds for understanding to spread through the crowd of the truly revolutionary nature of X's pronouncement. X didn't seem to notice it. When he spoke again, all rival conversations ceased.

"The Three Laws of Robotics, and the First Law of Humanity, no longer apply. No reploid built in the future will have Three Laws gates. We will rely on the normal process of justice which has served mankind so well for so long. The Maverick Hunters will be folded into the police force as a specialized branch.

"In return, the Maverick movement will end. It has no role to play any longer. I expect full cooperation from reploids in bringing this chapter to a close. Any who do not accept amnesty will be prosecuted with the full force of the law. Any who aid them or try to hide them will be guilty of criminal aiding and abetting. As a further sign of robot sincerity, all robots will consent to install the anti-virus to the virus Sigma spread."

He raised his hand slowly. Every motion was slow. Every motion was captivating. "Dr. Cain," he said, "if you take that elevator and go to the second floor, you will find eight reploids. They are badly damaged. Three of them are certainly beyond repair. The other five might still be salvageable. I wish for you to try. You…" now X pointed at a very surprised human standing in the front row, "…and you, and you," two reploids, "will go with him and offer any assistance he requires."

Dr. Cain didn't hesitate. "Of course," he said, and headed for the elevator. The others X had designated followed immediately. They didn't dare do anything else.

Next he pointed at Lifesaver. "Lifesaver, you, you, and you, will work on distributing the anti-virus. We will need 100% accountability. Recruit additional help as you need it."

Lifesaver and his designated assistants went to the rear. The crowd pressed in to replace those who'd left. Proximity to X was prized above all.

"Alia, we'll need food, generation capacity, and shelter for everyone who's here. It's too hard at the moment to try and get everyone back to Abel City. We will stay here for the next several days while we hammer out the details of the new world. Douglas, you, you, and you will help her. Use this base, as well, for whatever you need. Don't forget to sweep the surrounding wastes for those who got lost or shutdown along the way."

Alia nodded and took her helpers with her towards the Land Carrier.

"Signas," X said, and his voice held the slightest of wavers. For a moment their eyes met. Circumstances had changed, and Signas knew it. He gave the smallest visible nod. For a few cycles, X admired the reploid. He was a proud being who nevertheless didn't let pride rule him. That was something that deserved rewarding. "You will be in charge of collecting testimony for the amnesty proceedings. Afterwards you will assume overall command of the police force. We will start with the people here. You, you, you, and you will help him."

Signas saluted crisply and left with his new deputies.

"You, you, you, you, and you," X said, pointing at two humans, Altern in his travel tube, and two reploids, "will work on a policy question. I want you to think of ways to tie reploid production to population growth. Humans must not be threatened with the prospect of being outbred."

The faces of the "volunteers" expressed that this was the hardest assignment yet, but they assented and moved away. When they'd gone, X raised his voice. "The rest of you will talk to each other," he said. "Mingle. Share stories. All of us have scars from the Maverick Wars; let's make them known. Humans talk with reploids, and reploids with humans. If we are going to live together, we had best understand each other. The differences are smaller than you think. Go."

He said nothing more. He knelt down a second time and went rigid as a mountain. Many of the spectators kept watching him expectantly. As seconds turned into minutes even they began to understand that he meant what he'd said. This could have bred discontent. Instead, they felt the weight of X's expectations. The worst thing they could think of was disappointing X. Slowly but surely, the two distinct crowds began to melt into each other. It was osmosis in action. So rarely does such a thing happen with people.

X's stare was blank, but he watched them all the same. Hope flickered in his chest.

An image of Zero appeared in the corner of his vision.

"It's wishful thinking to believe that this will solve things. It's barely even a beginning. Why, I'd say that the humans who came here are the ones most willing to compromise. There are a lot out there, of both species, who'll resist to the dying breath. It will be a long slog to try and get them to agree to a new world."

_I know._

"Five wars is a lot of bad blood to overcome. Even if ninety percent accept amnesty, that remaining ten percent will be quite a problem. As long as they hang on, they risk creating a new round of violence."

_I know._

"Plus there are those out there who found gratification in the Maverick Wars—from organized crime that thrived in the power vacuums, to profiteers, to twits like Dynamo who actually got off on the fighting. You'll have to fight them every step of the way, and they'll be watching you like sharks for any vulnerability."

_I know._

"You haven't changed what people believe. You've barely changed their actions. Right now they're acting purely because of their good will towards you and their respect for you. You're all that's holding them together. They're giving you the benefit of the doubt for now. If you falter, even for a moment, it will all come unwound."

_By Light, do I know._

"The weight of the whole world is on your shoulders, X. Do you think you can carry it?"

_As long as I have you to help me._

The image of Zero smiled, and faded from sight.

A subroutine informed him that construction was complete. He'd repurposed his self-repair system to build this despite being desperately low on power. It was minimally functional; it wouldn't be able to provide recharging or maintenance functions for some time, not until he had a major overhaul. It was merely a holder. For now, that would be enough.

His life was no longer his own, he knew. His every word was being relayed and parsed and discussed. The things he'd said would be recorded for eternity, and even now they were reshaping the world and every being in it. His actions from here on out would be seen as those of a ruler, judge, and prophet rolled into one. Even knowing that, he decided to indulge himself.

X reached to the saber and picked it up. He placed it in the newly-built holster over his shoulder. It was heavier than he'd expected, but nothing he couldn't handle.

He smiled a small, personal smile.

* * *

_Fin_


	16. Postscript

It was hard work, harder than anyone could have imagined. It almost came crashing down a week later when X collapsed from exertion. A small unreformed Maverick cell used the opportunity to try and stir up new trouble and kill a few humans in the bargain. Their fellow reploids refused to shelter them, and informed on them instead. Police—with Maverick Hunters stiffening the line—arrested the renegades. Arrangements were made to place them on trial.

Dr. Cain and Lifesaver convinced X to undergo major overhaul after that. The repairs were complete, with two exceptions. On X's orders, they cleaned up the border between the burned-bare portion of his face and the like-flesh, but did not repair it fully. They also completed the modification to X's design. The saber "sheath" became fully functional and permanent.

After emerging from overhaul, X was briefed on what had happened in the interim. One story was that of a small group of Eurasia survivors. As the colony fell, sixty reploids and humans had built an escape pod to allow half their number to survive. In accordance with the First Law, the reploids had all deferred to allow the humans to escape. When the time came to board, a few of the humans had second thoughts. They gave up their spots to reploids—to people that they knew and were friends with and couldn't bear to see die. The crew that survived re-entry and landed on Earth was, like Eurasia had been, a mixed crew.

They'd said something remarkable upon their arrival: "Only by forsaking the First Law could we come to accept humanity's love."

It's said that X cried tears of happiness at the news.

* * *

_Postscript: Method to the Madness_

_First of all: thank you for reading all the way through this story! In a similar vein, thank you to all who have reviewed my story. I've been blessed with some very articulate and passionate reviewers, and their thoughts have proved quite stimulating. Some of them hated my characterization of Zero, others loved it. Some hated the technical details of robots, others loved them. Some thought the chapter titles were pretentious, others thought… okay, everyone thought the chapter titles were pretentious. But these are things I would never have gleaned re-reading the story to myself, and for that, I am thankful._

_I've mentioned before that I'm very interested in the craft of writing. For that reason, I'm publishing my thoughts on the story and its development. Consider it the missing piece of the dialogue. Much as I was tempted to post it all chapter-by-chapter, I eventually decided that doing so would disrupt the story's flow too much. So, here are some thoughts, Q&A-style._

What possessed you to rewrite X5, especially when your previous stories were so brief?

_I hadn't intended to write an X5 story at all! When I began writing X stories, I'd planned to confine myself to the X games I had played, meaning 1-3. When I was writing the X3 story, "Zero Sum", I ended up doing some research in my attempts to keep Zero in-character. That research consisted of watching X4 videos. At that point, the arc of Zero's character from Hunter to leader of the Mavericks seemed exceptionally clear, so I decided to watch some X5 vids to see the conclusion._

_Yeah… _

_As it turned out, X5 veered off into a completely different direction. I was doubly outraged—not only did the series not consummate the logical direction of its own storyline, but it did so in sloppy fashion. At the end of X3 Capcom promised us a deathbattle over the fate of humanity, and what we got instead was a contrived fight over a vague misunderstanding. Really? I was so angry I felt compelled to tear the thing down and start over. This story was the result._

What's up with the virus? It's the central plot element of X5, and you pretty much wrote it into oblivion.

_Quite intentionally. The previous X games did just fine without a virus forcing the bad guys to be bad guys. Having a virus be the cause steals away all the drama. It makes the X series yet another zombie franchise. The thing is, while zombies are "in" these days, they actually make for very poor drama. Zombies are terrifying and gruesome and all that, but they're not evil; they're animate machinery, acting on instinct. They tell us nothing about how people act because they're not people. They're an elemental force of nature. Zombies are never the "real" evil in zombie media; the real evil is always other humans, whether it's survivors who turn on each other out of desperation, or the instigators of the zombie mess who seek to profit from it. Without other humans, there's action but no drama._

_The same goes for the virus. If the virus makes reploids go Maverick, there's no drama to it—the reploids are zombified, they've lost their wills and minds, you can pity them but you must exterminate them and it's hard to even feel bad about it because in a way they're already dead. The only other potential source for drama is Sigma himself—but his character arc is completed in the very first game, and from that point on he's so over-the-top transparently evil there's not much drama there, either._

_That's why I dislike the virus, and that's why I rewrote it so heavily. Dr. Cain's point on the strength of the reploid will is pertinent, also. (Dr. Cain is my mouthpiece on more than one occasion.)_

You did seem to have fun writing for Dr. Cain. Where'd that come from?

_I enjoyed writing for him in my X1 story, "Lost in the Land of Nod"—which itself was originally about X, but Dr. Cain took it over once I got started with it. With that experience under my belt, I thought it made a lot of sense for him to play a major role in this story. He was still working with the Hunters in X3; Capcom just forgot about him after that. Unjustly, I thought. Even his role as Exposition Head was handed over, not exactly successfully, to Lifesaver and Douglas. The difference is that there are a TON of storytelling hooks for Dr. Cain. Lifesaver and Douglas? Not so much._

Poor Lifesaver and Douglas.

_Agreed. I did what I could to give Douglas a few moments. Lifesaver was more challenging, especially since Dr. Cain was already occupying his area of expertise. In my defense, Capcom didn't exactly give him much to do, either; he's pretty much a blank face. His main role in Capcom's X5 seems to be to add confusion between X and Zero to prompt their (silly) fight. Since I took the fight in a different direction, Lifesaver became borderline superfluous. I could have dropped him altogether, but I wanted the scene where he confronts Signas about Zero. He counter-balanced Dr. Cain, there, and for that reason alone he survived the cut._

Did Dr. Cain build Signas?

_What do you think?_

That's not really an answer.

_Next question._

What's with the musical chapter titles?

_Er… I got carried away. I didn't plan on it until I was posting chapter three—but chapters one and two had been "Prelude" and "Overture", so I felt I already had a theme going. I realized some people weren't going to get some of them; it didn't occur to me that most people would miss some, and that some would miss all. My bad. Here's a cheat sheet._

_Sforzando: forcefully. Not just loud, but blaring to the point of sounding harsh. Think Star Wars intro._

_Sturm und Drang: German for "storm and stress", which is pretty much what it sounds like. Rammstein is the post-modern take on it._

_Poco a poco: little by little. Not too fast, not too slow, very deliberate._

_Moderato: a moderate tempo, slightly faster than above._

_Aria: this is to opera what a soliloquy is to playwriting: a chance for one character to strut their stuff without anyone else interfering. Usually reserved for a prima donna type. Yes, it's Dynamo._

_Accelerando: getting faster._

_Staccato: a way of enunciating ("articulating") that is very sharp and short. The notes are cut off quickly, giving the music a broken, falling-over feel. Jazz freely alternates between this and its opposite (legato) to generate the swing feeling._

_Largo: large. Loud, slow, broad, and full, the sort of music that envelops you completely in a sea of sound._

_Adagio: slow, gently paced._

_Dissonante: dissonant. In music, only certain combinations of notes sound "right" or pleasing when played together; other combinations clash horribly, making you wince and setting you on edge. Sometimes composers will call for that deliberately to achieve that effect._

_Con fuoco: "with fire", which is pretty much what you think it is. Yes, there's a pun there. No, I'm not sorry._

_Fortissimo: very loud, the loudest dynamic direction usually written. (Some composers add extra "issi"s, e.g. "fortississimo", but they are being silly when they do.)_

_If you think THAT's pretentious, the original title of the story was "Killing Enkidu". Luckily I realized that the Epic of Gilgamesh is a bit outside the mainstream before I put the story up. _

Where'd you get the title you did use?

_It ties in with the end of the story, but it's also a reference to a song by The Megas. In the final stanza of "The Annihilation of Monsteropolis", Air Man says to Mega Man, "You've a heavy load to bear/ do you think you can carry it?" It fit nicely, and I was looking to work in a Megas reference. Their songs are what gave me the feel I needed to write my X stories._

_Look up The Megas' music. They'll melt your face and you'll like it._

Why does Zero have two sabers?

_Because that would be cool. That said, I'll now proceed to make the case that he actually has two sabers. In some material, X is shown as only having one buster, and it serves almost as an external attachment. This is silly; the games very clearly show that he has two, one in each arm, and his hands swap between hands and busters. Similarly, look at all the material with Zero. In some cases, his saber is over his left shoulder. Sometimes it's over his right. This raises two possibilities. First: one saber, two holsters, and Zero chooses (on some unknown basis) which holster to put the saber in every time he swings. Second: two sabers, two holsters, and one saber is kept reserved (and thus out of sight) at any given time. You can't really say which of those is correct, so I went for the one that allowed spiffier choreography._

What happens to Dynamo?

_I decided it didn't matter. For a time I toyed with a scene where he retrieves his belongings, frags a couple Mavericks that try to stop him, and vanishes into the night. Then I amused myself by imagining a scene where he thinks he's safe and Zero bushwhacks him. In the end, I decided it wasn't important what happened to him; he was a spent force, storytelling-wise, so I let him go. If you must have closure, use one of the above two options._

What the heck is a Sky-Shooter?

_In the game, Dynamo punches the ground and energy beams soar into the sky. What's YOUR explanation?_

You were bothered by a few of the game's weapons, weren't you?

_Yeah. Electrical weapons are my particular peeve. Look, I understand that electrical weapons are terrific for vulnerability circles and they're a natural when you've got robots running around. But I couldn't bring myself to write a story where a character shoots balls of electricity against things that fly. My sense of technical correctness prevented it. So I unilaterally changed the electricity weapons to be touch-range only._

Your sense of technical correctness, huh? That explains what you did with Eurasia, doesn't it?

_Douglas gets to be my mouthpiece, there. Even a large-diameter laser is not going to destroy a colony; it doesn't have the stopping power. I also don't abide the notion that "oh, they hit the reactor". Reactors don't just spontaneously "explode" when damaged. They didn't in the age of steam, they don't in the nuclear age, and there's no reason to believe they would in the future. Lots of other stuff happens, yes, but no explosion, per se. As for the whole "hit it with a shuttle" thing, I invoke the Law of Gross Tonnage. _

_A nuke not only makes more sense, it adds to the drama by engaging the legalistic side of things. And it gave me a chance to work in an extremely obscure "Mobile Suit Gundam" reference, so, yay._

Why doesn't anyone ever teleport around? It would seem awfully convenient to be able to move instantly when you're under time constraints.

_It WOULD be convenient—entirely too convenient, as it turns out. Look, I know teleporting has been a fixture of Mega Man games since the beginning. Yet after all these games we still have no information at all as to its operating principles. How do the robots get the power to do it (i.e. does it compete with other systems)? What's the transmission method? What are the accuracy and line-of-sight limitations? If you can teleport out of a boss' room, why can't you teleport in? Why can't you teleport across the various bottomless pits and spike pits you find? Only one answer fits all of the above: teleporting is defined 100% by its in-game convenience. My choices were a) make a whole bunch of assumptions and risk horrible incongruities, or b) disallow it completely. I chose b. Interestingly, the semi-canonical OVA "Day of Sigma" avoids the teleportation issue, also, forcing the characters to use various vehicles to get anywhere, even though the game it goes with, "Maverick Hunter X", uses teleportation like any other game._

_In any event, we can safely assume that teleportation involves satellites somehow, and those satellites got shredded in the first few minutes of Eurasia's fall. Also, unless you can teleport large volumes of cargo, X and Zero would still have had to escort the heavy loaders by land. (And if you can, why are there so many trucks and ships and planes for moving cargo? See what I mean?)_

I see what you mean. So… why's Abel City in Africa?

_You tell me where Abel City is supposed to be._

I can't…

_Yeah, I know._

This isn't really how this is supposed to work.

_When I was doing my research, a video of X5 appeared to me to show the Dynamo battle happening in Africa. Since Dynamo was attacking Hunter Base, that put Hunter Base in Africa. Alas, that dot was actually for Mattrex (those oh-so-famous African volcanoes /rolleyes). I will say that, volcanoes excepted, that part of Africa is in range of most major climate zones, even glaciers on Mount Kilimanjaro. Actually, if not for the fact that Japan is mostly submerged in cities, Japan itself makes a good candidate (go figure!)—the archipelago is quite diverse, terrain-wise, from jungles in the south to tundra in the north. Yet in X5, Duff's ocean is called "the closest" to Hunter Base, and Duff's location is clearly spotted in the North Atlantic. Whatever, Capcom hates geography, this we know, so Abel City's in Africa for this story, so there._

How'd you get away with ignoring the upgrading-armor aspect of the games completely?

_How many armor sets can we reasonably expect Dr. Light to have hidden ahead of time? How are the pieces hidden inside other people's laboratories and submarines and etc. without their knowledge? And if Dr. Light thought his creation might need more firepower, why would he place it in separate locations instead of simply enhancing the original? _

_Even if it made perfect sense, it still wouldn't work here. From a design perspective, upgrading X's armor is a reward for good gameplay and a way to incentivize exploration. Those are important considerations in games that don't translate effectively to a story._

Why do the robots keep saying 'rust' and 'verdigris' and 'scrap' and 'by Light'?

_Robots would have different cuss words than humans. It amuses me to imagine those as what they would use. It probably amuses me way more than it should._

How did you decide which Hunter would get which Mavericks?

_I wanted X to fight alternating bosses so that he wouldn't have any of their weaknesses during the first meeting (otherwise he'd be far more prone to killing them, whether he meant to or not). I really wanted the scene with Mattrex; the dino's dialogue in-game strongly suggested his scene. Adler, too, to a lesser extent. That set the pattern._

Why did you blow off so many of the reploid stages? I think (reploid name) deserved better treatment.

_Repetition. Games can get away with some degree of repetition because the fights themselves are different, but the drama follows the same lines each time. Do differences exist based upon the reploids' personalities? Yes, I suppose. But I felt they weren't significant enough to change things too much, and it wouldn't do to keep hammering the same nail._

How did you manage to keep such a consistent posting schedule?

_I didn't start posting until all the way through chapter nine was more-or-less written. The story was "done"—inasmuch as the scenes were written, or at least planned—months ago. That meant that on a week-to-week basis I didn't have to do anything more than polish, polish, polish that week's chapter. Over the course of the story I added a few scenes, but not many; mostly what I did was flesh out many sequences and rework some scenes._

When can we expect an X6 story?

_Never ever ever._

Aww.

_Thank you for reading, and good night._


End file.
